


Spirits

by briaranise



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meddling mothers, Medication side effects, Supernatural sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaranise/pseuds/briaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred Jones is a typical high school jock. He just wants to fit in and be popular. But his priorities begin to change when he befriends Arthur Kirkland, a lonely boy whose life has always been plagued by spirits. Written for the USUK Summer Camp 2012 event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hike

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This story was originally written for Summer Camp 2012 over at the USUK LiveJournal community, and was subsequently posted up over at FF.net. I thought it might be time to add it over here too! 
> 
> The chapters might seem a little bit disjointed since they were originally written out of order as interconnecting oneshots. I hope you all enjoy reading this anyway!
> 
> UPDATE 24/2/14: It's come to my attention that one of the chapters was missing and the last chapter was repeated--I've corrected this now! :)

They didn't know each other. Or rather, they didn't acknowledge each other. Ever since he'd transferred to the school, everyone had warned him about Arthur Kirkland. He'd been told repeatedly that the sole member of the school's Occults Club was bad news.

"Let's get going on our 'adventure', then." Alfred eyed the other boy in distaste as he took a compass out of the box. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back to camp."

He watched as the slight, pale boy collected a map from the pile of printouts. Arthur Kirkland was definitely a strange one. The Briton was always quiet and distracted, and he never seemed to care much for human contact. Too bad the hiking challenge was composed of alphabetically-sorted pairs, then.

"Which way are we supposed to go?" he demanded, leaning over Arthur's shoulder to peer at the map. "Our first checkpoint is B, right?"

Arthur nodded dully and hefted up his hiking pack. Alfred pretended not to notice the way that the over-stuffed bag tugged heavily at the shorter boy's shoulders, weighing him down backwards. Instead, he picked up his own pack and set about adjusting the straps until the signal to leave was given.

"Let's go," he muttered, snatching the map away and setting off without stopping to make sure that his team mate was following. Alfred placed the cheap compass in the palm of his hand and stared down at it irritably. Instead of simply admitting that he had no idea how to use the compass, he began to stomp off in a random direction. He hadn't expected slender, long fingers to take the map back after only a few steps.

Arthur frowned down at the map for a moment, then took the compass as well. He fiddled with it, re-orienting himself and then turning the dial so that they would be heading straight towards the checkpoint. Alfred watched in silence, only growing more irritated with Arthur's lack of speech.

"What, can't you talk?" he asked cruelly. "I mean, I heard you were weird but I didn't know that you're a mute, too!"

Arthur finally glanced up at him. It was the first time that they had ever looked each other in the eyes, and Alfred was struck by how bright and unnatural the green of the Briton's eyes seemed to be. It was almost eerie. Alfred quickly tore his gaze away. He knew that it was wrong to bully someone, but Arthur was so insufferable! If Arthur had made some sort of attempt at communicating, then Alfred might have disregarded his friends' advice and talked to the other boy. But with Arthur acting this way, it was rather easy to justify why he was being so horrible and un-heroic.

That didn't help an awful feeling from bubbling up in his gut, though.

"Sorry," Alfred muttered finally, glaring at the grass in front of him. He hated feeling guilty. When he glanced over, Arthur's eyes were wide, as if no one had ever apologised for bullying him before in his life.

"That's quite all right," Arthur replied quietly, as if by reflex. As soon as he said it, he glared up at Alfred, as if challenging him. Alfred gave the most easy-going grin he could muster.

"Okay, then," he said simply.

They reached checkpoint B by late afternoon. Alfred hated to admit it, but Arthur definitely knew a lot about compasses and maps. He had been carrying the tent in his pack, so he left to set it up while leaving Arthur to deal with the food and campfire. It was getting dark rather quickly, and he wanted to have their shelter up before the sun disappeared completely. He wasn't  _scared_ , per se, but there were definitely  _things_  out there in the dark, and he didn't want anything to do with them.

Alfred finished pitching the tent just in time to see Arthur staring off into the distance, eyes slightly unfocussed as he mumbled and absently stirred a pot of baked beans. The Briton had been almost completely silent for the entire day, other than his quiet acceptance of Alfred's apology earlier and a shrill, startled yelp when he'd almost fallen into a creek. Alfred assumed that the other boy was simply tired. It was hard to miss the dark smudges under his eyes, especially when his skin was so pale. His pack had seemed heavy, too. Alfred resolved to offer him some help later.

"What are you doing?" he asked, coming around and plopping down on the log next to Arthur. The slighter boy startled, tensing up and making a tiny sound of surprise.

"That's none of your business," he snapped, before looking away uneasily. He seemed to focus on something slightly beyond the fire, and Alfred felt chills going up his spine.

"What are you looking at?" Alfred tried again, scooting a little closer and attempting to peer into the same direction. "There's nothing out there."

Arthur's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. His shoulders appeared to slump fractionally. "Of course there is," he muttered. "Just because  _you_  can't see them, doesn't mean—"

"As if!" Alfred interrupted frantically, clapping a hand over each of his ears. "There are no such things as ghosts, or monsters, or anything like that! Ahahaha… there's no such thing. They don't exist. So stop trying to scare me because it's not working and you won't get any stupid pictures of me to blackmail me with!"

The smell of something burning suddenly assaulted them, and Alfred leaned in to peer at the pot. "Dude," he said, sounding awed now instead of completely terrified as he had just moments before, "how the hell did you manage to burn baked beans?"

* * *

Sleeping with Arthur Kirkland was beyond awkward.

The Briton was curled up in his sleeping bag, facing away from Alfred. He appeared to be sound asleep, giving tiny, snuffling snores that were actually kind of funny. That is, they would have been funny if Alfred wasn't currently scared out of his wits.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Arthur had said earlier. What had he seen? What was out there? They'd put out their campfire and the surrounding checkpoint area was completely dark, but the almost-full moon cast long, eerie shadows upon the sides of the tent.

Alfred suddenly felt the need to pee.

"Arthur!" he whispered loudly, playing with the zip on his sleeping bag. "Arthur, are you awake?"

He was obviously asleep, but that didn't stop Alfred from trying. "Arthur, wake up!"

He scooted out of his warm sleeping back and slowly crawled across to where Arthur was lying. "Arthur!" he hissed again. The other boy merely mumbled a bit and shifted, but didn't wake. Alfred reached out to shake him… only to come in contact with something soft and fluffy.

With a completely unmanly squeak, Alfred snatched his hand back. What the hell had he touched? What the hell? He sat still for a moment, breathing deeply. Slowly, he reached back over and prodded the thing again, squinting in the dark. It seemed like a toy, or something, but there was something weird on its head.

"Oh my God," Alfred whispered, grinning widely. Arthur Kirkland slept with a  _unicorn plushie_. He couldn't wait to tell the guys about this. Idly, he thought that perhaps he should take a picture to prove it. But the thought of it being spread around school was too cruel. And anyway, Arthur wasn't hurting anyone, right? It was actually kind of… cute.

Alfred went back to his sleeping bag, his urge to pee gone. Had he honestly just thought that? Maybe eating those burnt baked beans  _had_  poisoned him after all.

* * *

They made it to the next checkpoint without incident, and were on their way back to the base camp. Arthur seemed to be opening up little by little, scolding Alfred for taking risks or getting offended over the tiniest of things. Alfred couldn't help but wonder why Arthur was always alone if he wasn't a bad person.

"Hey," he said, taking a drink from his canister as Arthur bent over to adjust his shoelaces. They were so close to camp that they could hear shouting and cheering in the distance. "Why don't you come sit with me and the guys at lunch, or something? You know, when we get back to camp."

"I must regretfully decline," Arthur muttered, straightening up. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen around me, anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Alfred demanded, bristling. He prided himself on being a good guy, and even though he hadn't been all that nice to Arthur at first, he was trying now! That's what counted, right?

"People like you are all the same," Arthur said. "You're all two-faced bastards and I want nothing to do with you."

The way that Arthur said it should have been warning enough. His tone was cold and matter-of-fact, as if he was merely saying something for the sake of saying it, instead of actually believing in his own words. Arthur was purposely attempting to drive him away, and unfortunately, Alfred fell for it.

"You're just sore 'cause you don't have any friends," Alfred snapped, offended. "You could be a cool guy, but you don't even try! All you do is mope around by yourself. It's like you're scared of something!"

He watched as Arthur's face reddened, then paled. "You don't know what it means to be scared of something," he snapped. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well you know what?" Alfred gestured rudely, scowling in the most menacing way he could. "I don't even care! You think saying all that stuff makes you so cool, but you're actually just a loser. Go sit by yourself then, like always!"

He stormed off then, straight towards the sounds of the camp. It didn't matter if Arthur was still following him or not.  _Screw Arthur._


	2. How to Make Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: How to Make Friends  
> Prompt: Day 7 - 'Part of Your World'  
> Summary: Alfred basically forces Arthur to become his friend, but fails...?

The Occults Club classroom overlooked the sports oval and tennis courts. Arthur had never been particularly interested in those areas of the school, but after the incident at camp he was curious. Who was Jones, and why had he made such a ludicrous offer? What was even more ridiculous was the fact that Arthur was still bothered by what Jones had said.

' _You could be a cool guy, but you don't even try._ '

He  _had_  tried. He'd tried several times in the past, but it just wasn't possible. He was just too different from everyone else. No one else saw the things that he did. No one else was forced to listen to the dead recount their tales of woe, or the faeries chanting nonsensical, ominous things. Though he was sure that others out there were plagued by the same beings that he was, he'd never met them and there didn't seem to be others at the school. He couldn't fit in with normal people. It wasn't possible.

Arthur gazed down at the oval, watching the football team go through their drills. Jones was a puzzling fellow; he was inherently kind, but also like every other teenager. He was eager to fit in and hated to be criticised. Arthur, on the other hand, knew that he'd never fit in and had grown numb to the many rumours about himself.

He noticed that he had focussed on a single player running warm-down laps around the oval. Alfred was at the front of the group, laughing and joking with his friends as they continued back around towards the coach. Stupid Jones. He couldn't stop watching though, even as the boys began to do their stretches.

What made Jones so different? What made him so interesting?

Well, it didn't matter anymore. Arthur had successfully driven him off during the hike, so he didn't have to worry about Jones coming near him again.

"I'm fine on my own," he said quietly, pressing his face so close to the window that it was beginning to fog up from his breath.

"You aren't alone, Arthur," the faeries chimed. "You have us. We're all you need."

"I know," he sighed. Sometimes he wished that he could be like everyone else. He wished that he could live the way that everyone else lived, and only have to worry about simple things. Maybe then he'd have friends.

He jolted in his seat, painfully smacking his forehead against the window as he saw Alfred suddenly look up. Even from that distance, Arthur could clearly make out a wide grin on the American's face. He glared back determinedly, just in case Alfred was looking at him and not at a girl on the floor below. Down on the oval, Alfred was beginning to wave. Arthur tried to ignore it, but the stupid idiotic excuse for a high schooler merely waved harder, all but flailing his arms around.

Arthur scowled and gave him the finger.

Immediately he could see Alfred burst into laughter, clutching at his stomach while his friends prodded at him curiously.

Alfred really  _had_  been waving at him, then. Arthur felt his cheeks warm up.

* * *

When he opened his locker, Arthur was surprised to find an envelope inside. He opened it cautiously, lest it was filled with itching powder or something of the sort. It contained some kind of invitation. Arthur didn't bother to read it, instead crumpling it up and shoving it into the nearest bin. He received these all the time—some 'popular' member of the grade would simply shove invitations into everyone's lockers and then expect everyone to attend. He hated how 'outcast' groups always jumped at the opportunity to attend those parties even though the popular people treated them like crap.

He never bothered to go to any of the parties. He couldn't have fit in, anyway.

As he filed out of his last class of the day, a hand suddenly descended onto his shoulder. Arthur whirled around, his posture defensive.

"Hey, chill," came Alfred's obnoxious voice. "I just wanted to ask if you got the invite? I'm having a birthday party."

"I got it," Arthur replied, shrugging off the other boy's hand. "But I won't be attending."

He had to admit that Alfred's acting skills were quite good. The boy seemed to visibly deflate, his shoulders sagging and his bottom lip protruding a bit. "But I wanted you to come!"

"You don't always get what you want." Arthur made his way through the masses of students and headed for his locker. He packed his bag in silence, well aware of the boy who was standing behind him and still giving him puppy eyes.

"I want to be friends with you," the boy insisted. "I'm sure you're really cool!"

"Well I do not wish to become friends with you."

He walked away without allowing Alfred to say another word.

There was no football training on that afternoon. Arthur gazed out of the window at the solid mass of mud being produced by the rain.

"There you are!"

He tried to ignore the voice, but knew that it didn't belong to any of the spirits or faeries that surrounded him. "What do you want, Jones?" he finally sighed.

"I just wanted to convince you to come to my party." The American entered and sat himself up on the desk next to Arthur, swinging his legs. "It'll be super fun, and I won't just leave you in a corner by yourself."

"I thought I made it clear to you that I have no intention to attend."

"It'll be fun."

Arthur finally looked away from the window, glaring at the other boy. "I don't think that you're understanding me. I am not like you, Jones. I do not want to attend parties. I do not want to get drunk and do stupid things and have photographs taken of me. I just want to be left alone. I'm not one of you. I'm not part of the kind of life you live."

"You could be, though," Alfred argued. "But… fine, then. What do you want to do?"

"I don't want to do anything that involves you."

"What about chess? You like that kind of thing, right?"

It was surprising that Jones did remember that, actually. Arthur had attempted to join the chess club when first starting at the school, but had felt too isolated from the other club members to continue. "I do," he confirmed, "but you probably can't even play."

"I can so!" Alfred rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I'm really good, too! Mattie makes me play against him. Let's say… if I win, then you have to come to my party!"

"And if you lose, you have to leave me alone."

"I'll leave you alone for a whole week."

"Fine."

The next afternoon saw them squaring off against each other in a game of chess. True to his word, Alfred was a formidable opponent but in the end, Arthur triumphed. Still, it had been exhilarating and almost… fun, to be playing against another person instead of online or against the faeries.

Alfred had looked so thoroughly disappointed that Arthur almost felt bad. He still didn't understand why the American craved his presence at his party so much; it was probably some kind of social status booster to have him turn up. He had no reason to feel sorry for the stupid git. He wasn't part of that, no matter how much he'd wanted to be.

Still, when Alfred arrived at school on his birthday, he found a neatly wrapped gift in his locker. It was unlabelled, but he could guess who it was from.


	3. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Fight  
> Prompt: Day 11 - 'Someday My Prince Will Come'  
> Summary: Arthur doesn't need to be saved, but sometimes it's nice to know that someone cares.

It wasn't hard to see that Arthur Kirkland was rather strange.

It wasn't that Alfred looked at the other boy all that often-not at all! But he had to admit that Arthur was interesting, and was definitely very different to the rest of his friends. Their tentative acquaintanceship was slowly developing, but it was obvious that Arthur was holding back.

"Hey, Kirkland."

Alfred paused on his way to his locker and backtracked out of curiosity, wondering who would be speaking to Arthur with such undisguised hostility and ridicule. He peered around the corner, only to see Arthur being cornered by several jocks.

To his credit, Arthur didn't appear to be backing down. He stood straight-backed as he always did, green eyes flashing with contempt.

"What do you want?" he spat. "I don't have time for the likes of you."

"This will only take a moment." One of the boys reached forward and gripped Arthur tightly by the upper arm. The shorter boy let out an indignant noise of protest, but it was ignored. Alfred knew that he should have done something, but he felt frozen. He couldn't go up against his friends—not for someone he barely knew. Arthur was becoming his friend, but… These guys were the ones he hung out with on a day-to-day basis. These were the ones he shed blood, sweat and totally manly tears with every time they played a game. He couldn't stop them from whatever they were doing. Besides, maybe they were just going to talk to him. Maybe they weren't going to do anything too unsavoury.

They were all good guys, right?

But then again, Arthur was beginning to look horribly cornered, glancing around nervously without finding an escape route. Though his facial expression was fierce, his body posture screamed of nervous defensiveness.

Arthur gave a quiet yelp as he was yanked forward. Almost immediately, he was tugged backwards by his backpack.

"Let's see what you've got in here."

His backpack was pulled from his shoulders and unzipped. The jocks gave no warning before tipping it upside down, emptying all of the contents onto the floor. Alfred gritted his teeth as they began to laugh, carelessly treading on top of the spilled notes and books. One of them picked up a notebook and Alfred quickly ducked into an empty classroom as his friends left, clapping each other on the back and whooping quietly.

Alfred felt incredibly guilty. Those were his friends, and he couldn't stop them from picking on Arthur. He was well aware of the Briton's reputation within the school, but that didn't justify him being cornered and humiliated. As he poked his head out of the classroom door, there came a tell-tale mutter and the sounds of paper being shuffled.

Arthur was trying to pick up the pieces of his pride, and Alfred couldn't bring himself to face the other boy.

* * *

There  _was_  something that only Alfred could do, though. That afternoon he managed to swipe the stolen notebook, which had been carelessly left on one of his friend's desks. Out of morbid curiosity, he guiltily flipped through the notebook. It wasn't to see if the rumours about Arthur being crazy were true or not! He just wanted to… Survey the damage.

And there was damage. Most of the book was fine; it had been half empty anyway. But the first dozen or so pages had been littered with graffiti: cruel messages and several inappropriate doodles were scrawled across the paper.

The attack had been cruel and, to his knowledge, completely unprovoked. Alfred had to wonder how many times it had happened to Arthur in the past. Crazy or not, no one deserved to be treated that way.

After school, he reluctantly wandered towards the Occults Club classroom. He wanted to see if Arthur was okay, but at the same time... He couldn't think of Arthur without remembering the cowardly way he'd left the English boy to fend for himself. Some hero he was.

Timidly, he knocked on the classroom door and eased it open, peering through the gap. Arthur was seated at the same desk that he always seemed to be sitting at, idly flicking through his mathematics textbook. He glanced up quickly, tensing, but relaxed when he saw Alfred.

"Oh," he said, as if it was difficult to believe that Alfred had chosen to come and see him after school, "it's you."

There was an awkward silence. Alfred gave a weak grin and came inside, shutting the door behind himself. "Um, yeah," he mumbled, "it's me. How're you going, buddy?"

A strange expression crossed the Briton's face, as if he knew exactly what Alfred was hinting at. "I'm… Well, I suppose I'm not too poorly."

"That's good." The American made his way across the room and turned the chair in front of Arthur's desk around. He straddled it and lay the notebook down on the desk. "I, um… I found this. It's yours, right?"

"Yes." Arthur reached out to take it and flipped through the first few pages, keeping his expression determinedly blank. "Thank you, Alfred," he muttered after a moment, tucking the book into his backpack, "but you needn't jeopardise your place on the team for me."

A wave of shame and something not unlike protectiveness began welling up within Alfred's gut. Somehow, Arthur knew what he'd done; yet he wasn't angry. It was sad to think that Arthur maybe didn't think enough of himself to allow himself to feel wronged. But Alfred was definitely angry with himself, and he silently swore to intervene next time the other boy was targeted. Arthur didn't deserve any of this.

* * *

It turned out that Arthur didn't need any help, though. The next time that Alfred found him cornered by the other footballers, he was shocked to find Arthur fighting back—and winning. The English boy was fast on his feet and his blows were both accurate and graceful. Alfred stood there, gaping, as one of his friends went down, groaning and clutching at his groin.

Arthur was fucking  _amazing_.

But he was also going to get into a  _lot_  of trouble if this continued, so Alfred rushed in and quickly hauled the smaller boy out of the fray. "Guys!" he shouted, gripping Arthur tightly in an effort to keep from being hit. "Guys, I think the teacher's coming!"

The jocks immediately dispersed, knowing that if they were caught in a brawl then they would be immediately suspended from the team. Alfred released the other boy and stood by awkwardly as Arthur wiped at his bleeding lip and straightened his uniform.

"I didn't need you to step in," he muttered, dabbing gingerly at his lip. Alfred offered him a crumpled tissue from his pocket.

"I didn't know you could fight like that," Alfred said lamely as he scrabbled for something to say. "I mean, you looked like you were winning and all, but it's not good to fight! What if they report you?"

"Then they'd have to report the fact that there were several of them ganging up on the freak, who beat them single-handedly."

"You're not a freak," Alfred protested. He watched the other boy raise one bushy eyebrow. "I'll stick up for you though, if you do get reported. I'm not gonna let them say that you attacked them for no reason or anything, I mean, they're the ones who provoked you—" He cut himself off and looked away guiltily, his face beginning to flush.

"I know what you saw." Arthur gave a soft sigh and slowly began repacking his backpack. "I don't blame you—I expect your friends are rather unforgiving."

"How long has this been happening?" How had he never noticed? This couldn't just be a recent thing, right? They'd been doing this the entire time he'd been friends with them, and he'd never once noticed.

Arthur shrugged. "Normally I wouldn't have allowed it to escalate this far. I wouldn't have allowed myself to engage in a physical fight. I'm just… so  _sick of them_ , though."

"Well, I'm not letting them do anything to you ever again," Alfred announced. "Where do you sit?"

"Where do I sit…?" Arthur looked confused. "Do you mean… in my next class?"

"Nah, man." The American shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I mean now. You know, lunch?"

"Lunch?" There was a long pause, before Arthur looked up again. His lips quirked up into a tiny, crooked half-smile and Alfred's couldn't help but store away the memory carefully. It was an awfully endearing smile, and probably very rare, too. He hadn't really seen Arthur smile much before, and he knew that he wanted to see it more often from then on.

 


	4. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Crush  
> Prompt: Day 6 - 'Something There'  
> Summary: Alfred has a bit of a crush. Too bad he feels like a complete creeper.

Alfred wasn't paranoid, but he often freaked out when there was nothing there. His brother blamed it on his horror movie obsession, but... Well, whenever he was with Arthur the feeling seemed to intensify, so much that he could actually feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck beginning to stand on end.

There was something there, but he wasn't sure what that could be. After all, there were no such things as ghosts.

He nervously made his way into the Occults Club classroom, only to find that Arthur wasn't inside. Immediately, his anxiety increased. If ghosts  _did_  exist then they'd probably hang around somewhere like here, right? He'd often seen Arthur muttering to himself in here. Was he summoning things?

Crap, he was going to die, wasn't he?

"Please leave me alone," he begged the empty room. "I'm honestly trying my best to be friends with him, so please don't kill me. I'm too young to die."

"They say that speaking to yourself is a sign of insanity," Arthur said, poking his head into the classroom and spotting Alfred.

"Hang on, but you—"

"I never said that they're right, though."

Alfred watched as the other boy slowly made his way over to his usual desk and pulled out his books. They worked in silence for a little while, before Arthur began mumbling to himself again. Normally it would have freaked Alfred out a little, but he was, surprisingly enough, becoming used to it. It was harmless, anyway, and more than a little bit endearing.

"Hey, Artie." He half-heartedly worked his way through some mathematics problems.

"My name is  _Arthur_ ," the Briton replied, stressing his name.

"Well,  _Arthur_ ," he corrected himself, mimicking the other boy's emphasis, "why don't we skip the studying today? Let's go get an ice cream or something. Why are we stuck in here when it's so nice outside?"

The  _look_  that Arthur gave him was rather disconcerting. It was as if the English boy hadn't ever considered the possibility that Alfred would want to have anything to do with him outside of school.

"Outside?" Arthur repeated, looking a bit dazed. "You do realise that outside, people will see you. With me, that is. You oughtn't to put yourself in that kind of situation."

"As if I care." Alfred began shoving his books haphazardly into his bag. "I just want ice cream with a buddy. Who cares if people think we shouldn't be friends? I'm not ashamed of you. If you're ashamed of  _me_ , then that's a different story completely but that's not the case, right?"

"Of course not," Arthur whispered, his pale skin beginning to flush. "No, no, of course I'm not ashamed of you. I was just saying."

"People can say whatever they want to," he continued. "It doesn't mean that I'm gonna listen. C'mon, let's go. Unless you're actually hungry, in which case we may as well go to McDonald's or something. Are you hungry?"

"Well—I—yes?" Arthur's eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment, looking somewhere above Alfred's head. "Be quiet, you lot."

Alfred refused to be thrown off by the strange words. "Let's go, then."

* * *

The walk to the nearest fast food outlet was quiet. Neither of them felt the need to say anything, or perhaps they couldn't think of anything to say. Either way, they arrived at McDonald's soon enough and each purchased their own meal.

"Fish burger, huh?" Alfred eyed Arthur's meal from across the table. "I would've pegged you for a salad kind of guy, but the fish burger's actually pretty good."

"I enjoy this one." Arthur nibbled daintily on the end of a chip. "You, on the other hand, ordered exactly what I would have expected you to."

Alfred looked down at his large meal and grinned sheepishly. "Actually," he confided, "usually I eat more than this. I'm a growing boy, you know? I gotta eat lots."

Arthur actually looked a bit disgusted at that admission. "It's a wonder that you're not fat."

"Have you been looking?" It was meant to come out in a teasing tone, but they both ended up turning bright red and looking away from each other. That had sounded kind of… gay. Not that sounding gay was a problem, or anything! Arthur was really interesting, and he was nice to look at, too. It was just that… Alfred didn't want to scare the other boy off or anything. It probably wasn't fair on Arthur to be sort of crushing on him when the boy didn't have that many friends to begin with. It was kind of like… a betrayal of his trust or something, wasn't it?

"Of course not," came Arthur's weak scoff. "What are you trying to imply, exactly?"

"Nothing, nothing." The retort sounded remarkably lame to his ears, and Alfred slumped a bit. He wanted to sound super cool and stuff, but it was so hard when Arthur was taking a bite out of his burger and then eating another chip, while there was a small smear of mayonnaise on the side of his mouth… Alfred reached across with his napkin and dabbed at Arthur's mouth gently. "You had… a bit of mayonnaise, right there," he breathed quietly.

Arthur's eyes were wide and his cheeks were that endearing shade of pink again. His mouth opened slightly. "Alfred, I…"

Alfred promptly elbowed his drink, causing it to spill across the table and drip down into Arthur's lap. The English boy yelped and leapt to his feet, dabbing at the growing stain on his thigh.

"God, I'm so,  _so_  sorry!" Alfred quickly scrambled out of his chair and began dabbing at Arthur's thigh, forgetting his earlier use of it and managing to smear a bit of mayonnaise across the coke stain. "Ah shit, I'm really sorry—"

"I-it's quite all right!" Arthur quickly pushed the other boy's hands away from his lap and backed away. "I'll just—I'll go to the restroom and clean myself up, shall I?"

"I'll come too!" At Arthur's horrified look, Alfred quickly retracted his offer. "On second thought, I'll look after the food, okay?"

"Yes, you do that."

Alfred spent the next fifteen minutes staring at his hand and trying to both remember and forget how Arthur's thigh had felt. He felt like a creep, like he was taking advantage of his friend.

He didn't know that Arthur had spent those same fifteen minutes staring at the patch on his thigh, remembering how warm and gentle Alfred's hands had been.


	5. Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Lights  
> Prompt: Day 3 - 'I See the Light'  
> Summary: Arthur follows the voices. It's a bad idea.

Arthur Kirkland was definitely not crazy.

That didn't change the fact that most people thought he  _was_  crazy, though. Apparently mumbling to oneself and seeing things that weren't actually there were signs of insanity, according to his peers. Arthur would have loved to say that he didn't care about their opinions, but in the end… he did.

Or at least, he cared about the opinion of one particular classmate.

He and Alfred had been acquainted for a while, but he couldn't shake the worry that he would scare away the American. He still didn't understand why Alfred had taken to visiting him in the Occults Club classroom after school, but if he was to be honest… he rather enjoyed their meetings.

Alfred usually turned up with whatever had been stolen from Arthur's bag that day, as well as a burger or two that he'd offer to share. Even though Arthur acted annoyed, he was actually glad for the company.

Focussing on Alfred helped him to ignore the voices.

"I wonder where he is today," a small voice piped up. "I wonder if he's forgotten you already, Arthur."

"Of course he hasn't forgotten me," Arthur scoffed. He had nothing better to do while waiting for Alfred to arrive, so he took out his maths homework and began looking through his notes.

"Are you sure?"

"Where is he then?"

"Mayhap he went home already."

"He hasn't gone home!" Arthur pressed his pencil to his book so hard that the tip snapped. "His practice most likely ran late."

"It's raining though."

"Practice was probably cancelled."

"He's not coming, is he?"

Arthur sharpened his pencil with a scowl, twisting the pencil in the sharpener with more force than was necessary. "It doesn't even matter if he comes, anyway."

"It matters to you, though."

"But it's all right."

"You'll always have us, Arthur."

He hated the way that his name was said in that melodious, sickeningly sweet voice. Arthur tossed his sharpener back into his backpack carelessly and attempted to ignore the strange, glowing things that had followed him around for as long as he could remember.

"Arthur, don't ignore us."

"Arthur, you're hurting our feelings."

"Arthur."

"Arthur?"

"Arthur!"

"Bloody hell,  _what_?" he snapped, slamming his book shut. "He's become bored of me—so what? I don't care. It doesn't matter. When did I ever say I wanted to be his friend anyway? Alfred's just some dumb jock who wants to take pity on the freak. He's annoying and loud and I… wish he'd just leave me alone!"

He hated how attached to Alfred he'd become in such a short amount of time. The thought of Alfred no longer coming to the classroom after school made him feel strangely hollow inside, and he  _hated_  that. Arthur knew that it was dangerous to allow himself to become close to someone. He wasn't like other people. Maybe he really  _was_  crazy, and no one deserved to be forced to deal with someone like him. Especially not Alfred.

"Gee, I didn't know I was annoying you  _that_  much, Arthur."

Arthur whirled around and caught sight of Alfred standing in the doorway. The American's posture was relaxed and casual, but it was impossible to miss the hurt in his eyes. Arthur gaped at him wordlessly.

"You know, you could have just said it to my face. If you want to be left alone so bad, I'll just go. I brought something for you though. Thought you'd like it. That's why I was late." Alfred strode over and deposited a plastic bag in front of Arthur, pointedly not looking at the Briton. He quickly left, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Arthur continued to stare at the door. Had he just… lost Alfred? He tried to glare at the faeries—for he assumed that was what the glowing things were—but they were suddenly nowhere to be found. It was his own fault. He knew that. He couldn't even be honest to himself.

* * *

It was lonely, leaving the school by himself. Arthur wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck and shivered as he made his way towards the bus station.

"No, not this way."

"Let's walk, Arthur!"

"It's so pretty."

All his life, he had been listening to the voices. It was only recently that he'd tried to argue against them. It was only after he'd become friends with Alfred that he'd had any desire to argue against them. But now Alfred was angry at him, and with good reason. He shrugged helplessly but obeyed.

"Where are we going?" he tried to ask. "I should be getting home soon."

"Let's go for a walk," the chiming voices insisted, and Arthur made his way past the bus station obediently.

It wasn't quite cold enough to snow yet, but it was definitely more than a little bit chilly out on the streets. Arthur suddenly wished that he'd remembered his pullover that morning instead of just wearing his blazer over his uniform. There were very few people on the streets but Arthur quickened his pace and kept under the street lights just to be safe.

"Will you tell me when to stop walking?" he asked plaintively. He was cold, and his nose felt like it was getting frostbitten. The faeries giggled but Arthur found the sound ominous more than anything else. He was sure that they meant well, but it was still rather disconcerting to have them laugh at him.

"If Alfred was here it would be nice, right?"

He shook his head. "He's not here. He's angry with me, remember?"

"He's not angry."

"He's embarrassed! Now that you know he's just pitying you…"

"We're the only ones who care about you, Arthur."

"I know that," he sighed. "I know." No matter how much his parents loved him, they would never understand. They would never accept him as he was, instead of mentioning psychiatrists and doctors whenever they talked about him. His brothers just thought he was plain insane, and now Alfred…

Well, Alfred probably just thought that he was a bastard. Rightly so, too, if taken from Alfred's point of view.

"Just a little further, Arthur."

"There's someone who wants to meet you."

Arthur sped up a bit, wanting to get this over and done with. The sooner he finished here, the sooner he could go home. He shoved his hands deep into his blazer pockets but continued to shiver.

"Keep going, Arthur. Keep going."

The faeries' giggles began to grow louder and louder until they were deafening him. Arthur clamped his hands on his ears, frozen on the spot. "What are you doing?" he gasped, tears springing to his eyes as the giggles grew to a painful pitch. "Who am I supposed to be meeting?"

"Look at us."

Suddenly the giggles stopped, only to be replaced with a loud beep. Arthur stood, transfixed by the bright lights that were rushing towards him. He drew in a breath, and let it out, still not comprehending the situation. The lights were closer, closer, and oh so bright…

He was suddenly yanked backwards by the back of his blazer. He tripped, landing heavily and staring up with wide eyes.

"What the hell, Arthur?"

Blue. So much blue. Where were the faeries? What had happened? … Where did the light go?

"What the fuck were you doing? Are you fucking insane?"

The lights… blue… the faeries were gone, the faeries had left, and the light was nowhere to be seen. He gazed up blankly, still uncomprehending. Blue, so blue. He was drowning in blue.

"Arthur, you fucking asshole, say something!"


	6. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Coffee  
> Prompt: Day 2 - 'True Love's Kiss'  
> Summary: After an incident, Alfred tries to calm Arthur down and ends up doing something a little different instead.

He couldn't stop shaking.

Alfred had draped his warm, oversized letterman jacket over Arthur's shoulders, but the English boy had yet to recover from his shock. He was becoming far too pale, and Alfred began to worry that the boy would simply keel over soon.

"Hey," he said, voice tight with anxiety. "Hey, Arthur. Look at me. Are you okay?"

Arthur slowly looked up, his eyes unfocussed and his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. He opened his mouth, but merely moved his lips before closing it again. A tiny whimper escaped him. It was a sound that Alfred had never heard from anyone before, ever, and to be honest it gave him the chills.

"Arthur!" Alfred gripped his shoulders and gave him a little shake. "You're not hurt, right? What's the matter?"

He'd taken a first-aid course in the past, but now Alfred suddenly found himself wishing that he'd paid more attention back then. Arthur was definitely not okay, but he couldn't think of anything else to say or do to help him. At the very least, he had to get Arthur to respond, right? He couldn't remember...

"Let's get some coffee," he announced, tugging Arthur to his feet roughly. "It's cold out, and you're still shaking." Alfred slung his arm around the other boy's shoulders without thinking, pulling him tightly against his side. It still never ceased to surprise him that Arthur was almost the same height as he was; the Briton just seemed so much smaller and frailer. He contemplated saying that out loud just to get a reaction from Arthur, but decided against it. He didn't want to piss him off. Who knew what he would do in this state.

Alfred led Arthur down the street, keeping him close. He could feel that Arthur was beginning to calm down, his shoulders relaxing under Alfred's arm. Upon spotting a random coffee shop, Alfred steered the other boy inside and led him to one of the booths. "What do you want?" he asked, sliding into the seat opposite Arthur. "I dunno if they'll come take our orders or not, so I'll just go up there to the counter. Coffee?"

He waited a moment to see if Arthur would answer, but when he merely drew the jacket around himself more tightly and crossed his arms across his chest Alfred went ahead and ordered. When he returned to the booth, Arthur was huddled over the table with his head pillowed on his arms, shoulders hunched.

"Arthur." Alfred's tone was unusually serious. "What were you even doing out there?"

There was no response from him, and Alfred sighed, leaning forward and imitating Arthur's pose. They sat in silence for a while, until their coffees were brought over.

"Rough night?" the waitress joked, placing the mugs down in front of them.

"You have no idea," Alfred grumbled, sitting up. "Thanks." He waited until she was gone and then dumped three sachets of sugar into his mug. "Drink up, Artie," he said, prodding the other boy's head before taking a long sip of his coffee. "It'll probably help calm you down, or warm you up, or whatever. Either way, you're going to tell me why you're being so weird tonight."

When there was still no response, he pushed Arthur's mug closer and wafted the scent of coffee towards the boy.

"That smells disgusting, Jones." Arthur's voice was still shaky, but at least he was talking now. He slowly sat up and reluctantly reached out to grip the mug with his hands, leeching the heat from the ceramic.

"Have a taste," Alfred encouraged. "It's good."

Arthur obediently brought the mug up to his lips and took a cautious sip. Instantly he spluttered, pulling a face and almost dropping the mug. "That's disgusting," he repeated, placing the mug back down on the table but unwilling to let go of it and lose his heat source.

"Add some sugar," Alfred advised, absently emptying two sachets into Arthur's drink. He took another long drink and then leaned forward, eyes serious. "Arthur," he said quietly. "What were you doing?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

Alfred looked annoyed. He drained his mug and scowled. "Well considering that I saved your ass tonight, you have to tell me  _something_  at least." A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him and he reached across and gripped the other boy's hand tightly. "Arthur, were you—"

"It's not what you think," Arthur interrupted, drawing his hand away. "I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I'm not like that."

"I don't know if I can believe you or not."

"Well that's hardly my problem, is it?" Arthur fiddled with the handle of his mug. "There are things that you can't understand. I can't explain them to you. But I'm not the sort of person to go looking for ways to end my own life. You should know this by now."

"It  _is_  my problem," Alfred insisted. "We're friends, right? How do you know I can't understand whatever it is if you haven't even tried talking to me about it?"

Arthur looked away. "I can't tell you."

"Is someone hurting you?" Alfred guessed at random, feeling sick in his stomach. "Is it your brothers? Guys at school? Your parents?"

He never even saw it coming. Arthur decked him straight across the face so hard that Alfred was stunned for a few seconds. The Briton stood, livid. "Don't you dare  _ever_  insinuate that my parents would do such a thing!" he hissed, flexing his reddened hand. "Just—fuck off, Jones!"

He turned to storm out of the coffee shop, but Alfred quickly darted after him and gripped his wrist. "Don't go," Alfred pleaded, wincing as his cheek ached. "I'm sorry, okay? I know that was out of line. I'm just… I'm really worried about you, Arthur. I want to know what's wrong. I might not be able to help much, but if you don't tell me then I won't be able to help at all!"

"Why are you so insistent?" Arthur snapped, but his shoulders slumped and he turned to Alfred with an unreadable expression. "We're just classmates. You called me a 'loser' at camp."

"I care about you!" Alfred all but shouted, dragging Arthur towards him by the wrist. He must have tugged too hard though, because the next thing he knew he was tumbling backwards, landing on his ass. Arthur ended up in his lap, staring up with wide, green eyes.

Without thinking or hesitating, Alfred leaned down and kissed him.

"Oh my God," he babbled as he drew back, "oh God, oh gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—I mean, I meant to but not like this, I just—" Oh God, he'd never kissed a boy before. He'd kissed girls at school and stuff but he'd never kissed a guy. Not that Arthur wasn't attractive or anything — he was, and that was why Alfred had kissed him, but still...

Arthur flushed a brilliant red and scrambled backwards off of the American's lap, looking down at the tiles. Alfred quickly climbed to his feet and awkwardly offered the other boy a hand up. "C'mon, Arthur, say something," he said, laughing nervously. "You're not mad at me, are you? I said I'm sorry!"

"I'm not mad," Arthur said slowly, accepting the hand and finally looking up. "But," he added, "you have to take responsibility for what you just did."

"'Take responsibility'?" Alfred echoed, looking at him in confusion.

Arthur primly adjusted the letterman jacket around himself and cleared his throat, his face bright red. "Normally I wouldn't k-kiss… until at least the third… um, date. But since you… did that, you have to take responsibility now."

"Does that mean I gotta marry you?" At Arthur's enraged, embarrassed face, Alfred held up his hands in surrender. Taking responsibility for his actions was something that he'd always been taught to do, and besides, it wasn't as if he didn't want to. "Kidding, kidding… w-well, how about dinner now, then? We could eat here, right?"

"I suppose we could," Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I expect somewhere somewhat higher class for the next da—dinner! For the next time, I mean. If there is a next time." He turned away, flustered, and hurriedly returned to their booth.

Alfred grinned and did as he was told, collecting a menu and depositing it in front of Arthur with a gallant bow. There wasn't all that much to choose from, but eventually they ordered their food. Alfred sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with his empty mug. "I do...  _like_  you, you know," he said, reaching for Arthur's hand in what he hoped was a romantic gesture. "Maybe not love, yet… but I definitely like you."

Arthur looked uncomfortable and withdrew his hand, placing it in his lap instead of on the table. "I… don't know if I can like you," he admitted carefully. "Things are very complicated. But I do want to try liking you." He glanced up shyly.

It would be an utter lie if Alfred said that the statement didn't disappoint him, but he smiled anyway. "Take your time," he said. "I'll be around for a while."

Their food was brought out and Alfred turned the conversation towards harmless everyday matters. It was strange to feel the air between them shifting towards the unknown, but at the same time he was positive. Arthur hadn't outright rejected him, after all. While he'd never actually resolved to confess, he was kind of glad that things had turned out the way they did. He was on a date with Arthur Kirkland. Well, sort of, anyway. He was babbling something about school when Arthur interrupted him.

"I wasn't being serious," the Briton mumbled, playing with his food. "About what I said earlier. You don't  _have_  to take responsibility for anything."

"I want to," Alfred cut in, stopping him before he could say anything else. "You have no idea how much I want to. I… I kissed you, so I gotta man up and take responsibility! Though it's not as if you're horribly ugly or anything, and you're… cool." Damn his inability to articulate his thoughts!

Arthur flushed and rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Alfred… I don't know if I'll be able to tell you. About me, that is."

"That's okay." Alfred leaned forward, abandoning his meal for the time being. "You can tell me when you're ready. It's nothing I can't handle. But I won't push you, okay?"

Arthur looked thoroughly unconvinced, but nodded jerkily. He seemed to focus slightly behind Alfred, but by the time the American turned around to look Arthur was shaking his head and clenching his hands tightly.

"I'm  _not_  crazy," Arthur mumbled under his breath. "I'm  _not_."

Alfred pretended not to hear him, and they continued their meal in silence.


	7. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Date  
> Prompt: Day 8 - 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight'  
> Summary: Arthur and Alfred go on a date.

Arthur had a date.

It was obvious to his mother, father and brothers that there was  _something_  going on, but he hadn't had the heart to tell them that he would be going out with a  _boy_. Instead, he allowed his mother to fuss over his clothing and fix his hair, which only made him more nervous as he waited to be picked up.

"It's nothing, mum," he'd tried to assure her weakly. "I'm just going out tonight. There's no need to make a fuss."

Did he look nice enough to be Alfred's date?

Probably not, but he didn't have time to be having second thoughts. He had to be ready to go as soon as Alfred arrived, lest his brothers become curious and venture outside. There would be nothing worse than having his brothers interrogate Alfred. As if on cue, there was the sound of a car horn from outside. Arthur quickly pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek and mumbled a goodbye before hurrying outside. It seemed that he was just in time, since his brothers were already clustering at the window.

"Who's that?"

"Just a friend," Arthur muttered, quickly putting on his shoes.

"You have friends?"

"I thought you had a date, though?"

"With a boy, really?"

"Well it's better than him being picked up by a girl for a date, I mean, do you have no masculine pride, Artie?"

Arthur ducked his head, a humiliated flush beginning to colour his cheeks. Why did his brothers have to be such arses? He pulled the door open and hurried outside without bothering to say good bye, only to be followed by Allistor.

"What are you doing?" he hissed at his brother furiously. The older boy didn't bother to reply. As they approached the car, Alfred stepped out casually dressed in jeans with a bomber jacket over a white button-up shirt.

"Hi," Alfred chirped, hurrying over to the passenger side to open the door for Arthur. "Oh, you must be Arthur's brother."

"Allistor Kirkland."

"I'm Alfred Jones."

The two reached for each other's hand, giving a friendly enough shake before it turned into a battle of grips. Alfred knew that the older Kirkland boys tended to pick on Arthur, and he wanted to make it clear that he wasn't going to allow that as long as he was with Arthur. Allistor, on the other hand, seemed to be sizing Alfred up. After a long, tense moment, Arthur cleared his throat and the other two immediately let go, glaring at each other instead.

"Let's get going, Arthur," Alfred said, pointedly wrapping an arm around the English boy's waist and guiding him over to the passenger seat. "It won't be good if we're late."

Allistor waited patiently until his brother was inside the car, then utilised his full height to loom over Alfred threateningly. "Don't you dare use my brother like this," he hissed. "I don't know what you're playing at, but Arthur doesn't need to be screwed over by someone like you."

"Who says I'm going to screw him over?" Alfred drew himself up until he almost matched the other boy's height. "I care about him, which is more than I can say about you. I know all about what you guys do to him at home."

"If we didn't treat him like that, do you really think he'd survive a single day outside of the house? Mum babies him enough as it is." Allistor's oversized eyebrows furrowed as he glared. "Whatever. I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you. Just know that if you're just toying with him, you'd better stop now. I won't hold back if you hurt him."

"I'm not going to hurt him. But we're going to be late, so we're gonna go now, yeah? Reservations and stuff."

Allistor's lips twitched up into a familiar-looking half-smile. He nodded approvingly. Alfred had obviously passed whatever initial test he'd been put through. "He hates being late. Don't bring him back home later than ten, do you hear? Mum'll probably stay up all night worrying over him. He's the baby, you see?"

"Yeah, okay, back at ten." Alfred took a couple of steps over towards the driver's side. "You're not as bad as I thought."

"You're not as bad as you could be," Allistor shot back. "Remember what I said."

Alfred gave a quick salute and climbed into the car. He ignored Arthur's curious glances as he backed out of the driveway and didn't turn to look at him until they were well on their way.

"Don't listen to whatever he said," Arthur muttered. "He's an imbecilic brute. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's fine." Alfred reached across and gently took hold of Arthur's hand. "He's not that bad."

"Of course he is." The Briton shyly gave Alfred's hand a squeeze, then carefully extracted his hand and hid it in his lap. "Concentrate on the road, dummy."

Alfred laughed but obeyed. "I've got us booked in at this restaurant that I hope you'll like—it's pretty upmarket compared to that diner the other time, ha ha. After that I thought we'd go to the movies, and see whatever you feel like. Um, after that we could probably go for coffee or ice cream or whatever—you know, dessert."

Arthur hummed softly. "That sounds… good," he said weakly, wringing his hands in his lap. "I'll pay for the movie tickets and dessert, then, unless you'd rather I pay for the dinner?"

"What?" the American slowed down at a red light and turned to face his date incredulously. "Dude, you're my date. I'm paying."

"I'm not a girl, Alfred," Arthur said quietly. "I don't want to be treated like one."

"But it's proper, right? I'm dragging you out so I'll pay. Next time if you organise it, then you can pay. That's fair, isn't it?"

"I… suppose so."

Arthur's tone still held a great deal of doubt, but Alfred chose to ignore it. He had to do everything right tonight, because it was their first date since that night at the coffee shop. He had to prove to Arthur that he was worth having a relationship with, and that he really did care for him.

"All right, it's settled then. I'm paying tonight, and you can pay next time."

There was a slightly awkward silence until they reached the restaurant. Arthur had to admit that it looked decent, even though it was obviously a family restaurant. He wouldn't have been cruel enough to expect Alfred to take him to a high-class, sophisticated restaurant anyway. It would be far out of the price range of a high schooler.

They were led to their table and quickly ordered. Alfred did his best to crack a few jokes and act boyishly silly in an attempt to get Arthur to smile, but it was hard. When Arthur engaged in conversation he always seemed rather distant and distracted, and he continued to chew on his lower lip throughout the wait for their food. He didn't even seem to be looking at Alfred—his gaze was focussed somewhere behind and slightly to the left of Alfred instead.

Alfred couldn't help but wonder if there was someone more attractive sitting there, though he knew that Arthur was much too proper to look at other men while out on a date. To make sure, though, he twisted around in his seat and glanced behind himself as the waiter brought their food out. There were several elderly couples and a young family seated behind him, and he was pretty sure that Arthur wasn't interested in any of them.

"It's pretty cool, right?" he gestured towards the elderly couple that Arthur had seemed to be gazing at. "Them being together for so long, I mean. My grandparents are like that too, always being lovey-dovey and stuff."

"They haven't been together for long," Arthur muttered. "His wife passed away and he's already seeing another woman."

Alfred froze, his fork half way up to his mouth. "Do you know him?" he asked curiously.

Arthur shook his head, then nodded jerkily. He gave up and shrugged after a moment. "Sort of," he said vaguely. Alfred decided to drop it for now. They had dinner in companionable silence, which Alfred did his best to break every now and then.

Eventually they finished eating and Alfred called for the bill. He had a short internal debate about whether to pay with cash or card, but in the end decided that it would probably look for sophisticated to pay with his bankcard. They walked to the movie theatre, which was close by. Once there, he let Arthur choose some artsy film that didn't look the least bit entertaining, and spent almost the entire movie watching Arthur instead of the screen.

Alfred nodded off in the second half of the movie, and woke to find Arthur's head pillowed on his shoulder, and his hand being held in a shy, tentative grip. He tried to remain still so that Arthur wouldn't become embarrassed, but his breathing gave him away. Instead of withdrawing, though, Arthur merely tilted his head up and gave Alfred a soft, beautiful smile.

He couldn't resist any longer. Alfred leaned down kissed the corner of Arthur's mouth. Arthur shifted slightly, making a soft noise.

"Sorry," Alfred whispered, pulling back. "You just looked so, you know, kissable. I really, really like you."

Even in the dim light of the cinema, the flush that spread across Arthur's face was obvious.

"I do… like you, also," Arthur mumbled, pressing a shy kiss to the American's cheek. "I'm just… I…"

Someone sitting in the row behind shushed them rather rudely, and Arthur gave them the finger. It may have ruined the moment, but that was okay.

Just having Arthur's hand clasping his firmly was enough for Alfred.


	8. Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Explanations  
> Prompt: Day 14 - 'Collision of Worlds'  
> Summary: Alfred is sick of not knowing where Arthur is.

Surprisingly enough, seeing each other at school the next Monday wasn't at all awkward. Alfred subtly greeted his boyfriend with a small smile and a wave, but continued to make his way down the corridor, surrounded by his footballer friends.

Arthur, though slightly disappointed, understood what was at risk for the American. They couldn't suddenly out themselves to the entire school, after all.

"Hey, Artie."

The sudden whisper in his ear made him jump. Arthur whirled around, arms already rising defensively, but was faced with his grinning beau.

"What do you want, idiot?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide the movement.

Alfred easily saw it though, and frowned. "Arthur, what—"

"It's nothing." Arthur began to turn away. "Just… you know." He glanced around cautiously, and gave a squeak as Alfred gripped him by the upper arm. "Alfred, I really don't enjoy being manhandled like this—"

Wordlessly, Alfred tugged him into the nearest empty classroom and locked the door behind them.

"Alfred,  _really_. Morning tea is almost over, and I haven't even switched my books yet. What on earth are you up to?" Arthur frowned curiously, but made no effort to leave the room.

"I just… wanted to see you." Alfred wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled him close. "I hate not being able to touch you."

"You know perfectly well why you can't." The Briton sighed but returned the embrace, relaxing against Alfred's chest. "It would damage your reputation, perhaps irreparably."

"I hate it when you say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm better than you, like you're… I dunno, dragging me down or something. 'Cause it's not like that." He leaned down, his expression sad. "D'ya think… um, can I kiss you?"

"I… suppose so," Arthur breathed, already leaning up and closing his eyes.

* * *

Gradually, though, Alfred found that they began to see each other less and less. Arthur would be missing from the Occults Club classroom after school on some days, and he wouldn't answer any calls or text messages. When they saw each other next, he wouldn't even bother to explain himself. It bothered Alfred, but he figured that he had to give Arthur space.

Too much space was a bad thing though, and he could already feel them drifting apart. He knew that he had to trust Arthur. He knew that he had to be patient. But that didn't make things any easier for him.

He wasn't being too clingy, was he? Alfred packed his bag hurriedly and slammed his locker shut. He was trying his best.

They'd arranged to meet in the Occults Club classroom and maybe go out for dinner somewhere, but when Alfred arrived there was no sign of Arthur. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised. Arthur had been skipping out on so many of their meetings lately, it was surprising that they were even still together at all.

_Hey Art. Gonna go home. C U 2morow._

As usual, there was no reply. There was nothing for him to do but go home and try to control how hurt he felt.

* * *

"Arthur. We need to talk."

Alfred kept his tone as even as possible, even though he was angrier than he could ever remember being. They were  _supposed_ to be boyfriends. They were supposed to be able to talk to each other about anything, but Arthur wasn't even making an effort. The Englishman even had the audacity to look confused and slightly scared, but Alfred didn't let that distract him.

He all but shoved his boyfriend into the Occults Club room. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur brushed himself off and straightened his uniform up indignantly. "Just because we are… dating, doesn't mean that you are able to treat me in such a manner!"

"Yeah, and what about me? Are you allowed to treat  _me_  like this?" Alfred's voice rose until he was shouting. He'd never fully raised his voice at Arthur before, and it felt liberating to finally voice his thoughts. "You're such a fucking hypocrite!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Stop it!" He gripped Arthur by the shoulders and shook him once, hard. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You never want to see me anymore. You're always off doing stuff, avoiding me… and then you think you can just stand there and say that we're still dating? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well—aren't we?" Arthur's forehead was creased as he frowned, making no effort to remove himself from Alfred's slightly painful grip.

"Fucking Christ! You're not even listening to what I'm saying! Arthur, didn't you hear all the other stuff I said? Aren't you going to explain yourself?"

They stood still, staring into each other's eyes as Alfred breathed heavily. Finally, Arthur averted his eyes guiltily.

"It's… I can't tell you." His shoulders hunched and he seemed to shrink into himself. "Honestly, I… can't."

"Yeah, well you know what?" Alfred let go suddenly, causing the other boy to stumble backwards a few steps. "Fuck this. I can't deal with this right now." He turned around and headed back towards the door, only to be stopped by a grip on his wrist.

"Wait," Arthur pleaded. "Alfred, I'm… I was helping someone."

"That's not a good enough explanation." He waited though, standing still in case Arthur decided to explain himself further. "It's not good enough."

"I'm…" Arthur let go and took a few steps away from him, facing the opposite direction. "I… was helping someone... who had passed away."

"Like a ghost or something?" His sceptical tone of voice was obvious. "I'm not a fucking idiot, even if I  _am_  a 'stupid jock'."

"I didn't say you were." Arthur stubbornly continued to face away, even when Alfred turned around. "But yes. A ghost, or something."

"Arthur, seriously, I'm not gonna believe something like—"

"I can see ghosts, all right?" Arthur's voice was loud, but he wasn't shouting. He just sounded exhausted. "I see spirits. They're everywhere. They ask for help, and I can't refuse them. They're always around, talking and talking and  _talking_. Always. I can't be rid of them. I have to help them." His voice trailed off as he spoke, until he was barely whispering. "I  _have_  to."

He didn't even turn around, even when he heard Alfred finally storm out of the room and slam the door behind him.


	9. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Talk  
> Prompt: Day 5 - 'If I Didn't Have You'  
> Summary: While they might not come to a complete understanding, Alfred and Arthur attempt to talk.

They hadn't spoken to each other in over a week.

Was that normal? Arthur had no idea. He had never been in a relationship before, so he wasn't particularly well versed in the art of Arguing While in a Relationship. Though Alfred had said some hurtful things, Arthur knew that he had been just as bad. He hadn't tried hard enough to make Alfred understand. He hadn't tried hard enough to maintain their relationship.

Were they even still in a relationship? He wasn't sure. Were they supposed to officially announce that it had ended, or was that just assumed? Had he been dumped already?

"Arthur, darling, aren't you going to school today?" his mother called out from the doorway of his bedroom. "You're not ill, are you?"

"I don't feel well, mum," he mumbled. And he didn't. Everything—guilt and hurt and fear and insecurity—was welling up inside of him and churning around in his stomach. It  _had_  been his fault, right? He hadn't been spending enough time with Alfred, even though he enjoyed every moment he spent with the American boy. He hadn't paid enough attention to his…  _boyfriend_. It was his own fault.

But still, a small, petty part of him argued that Alfred was simply too pushy. He was too impatient and he didn't want Arthur's attention to be on anything other than him. He was selfish and besides, he was one of  _them_. One of the jocks; part of the group that took pleasure in tormenting Arthur.

But then again, Alfred wasn't anything like those other jocks, was he?

Damn it, he was feeling guilty again. Arthur groaned and rolled over, half-heartedly attempting to smother himself with his pillow. Light, tittering laughter reached his ears and he quickly covered his ears.

"I don't want to talk to you lot right now," he muttered. "I'm angry with you."

He was going to go to school, he decided. At least at school he could distract himself from the horrid little creatures that followed him everywhere. Arthur got up slowly and found that he still had ample time to get ready to leave, seeing as he usually left quite early.

He wandered into the kitchen to find that his mother was serving breakfast to his brothers. "Oh," she said upon seeing him. "I thought you weren't feeling well, Arthur?"

"He's never 'well'," one of his older brothers snorted. "He's sick in the head, remember?"

"Allistor!"

Arthur simply shrugged. Even though she was reprimanding his brother, he could hear the note of doubt in her voice. Great, his own mother thought that he was insane, too. Instead of staying and subjecting himself to his brothers' cruel humour, he quickly made his way towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

"Don't you want some breakfast, dear?" his mother called anxiously. "There's plenty of eggs left, and I can quickly fry up some bacon for you. I know, you love mushrooms, right? I'll fry some for you. It won't take a minute."

"Don't bother, mum." Arthur's voice was flat. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and turned. "Bye."

He fled the house before his mother could say another word.

* * *

Arthur arrived just in time to get to his first class. He went to his usual seat in the front row by the window, and waited. No one sat next to him, but then again he didn't expect anyone to. Alfred only sat with him in the classes that he didn't share with his other friends, and ever since their argument… Alfred hadn't come near him at all.

He wanted to say that he was used to it, that the years of rejection had made him numb. But that just wasn't the case—being with Alfred had shown him exactly what he had been missing out on. In hindsight, Alfred was just too cruel. He'd shown Arthur a taste of what it was like to be close to another person, only to tear it away. It was far too cruel.

Still, Arthur wasn't one to give up. He battled his way through one class, then the next. He determinedly took notes and completed the in-class exercises without giving into the urge to look at Alfred. At morning tea, he took his time in collecting his books from his locker and dawdled towards his next classroom without bothering to eat. He hadn't brought lunch, anyway. He went through the rest of the day in a similar fashion, just as he had for the past week. He didn't need Alfred. He was fine; he'd always been fine.

But… he couldn't deny that he missed Alfred.

* * *

After school, he collected his books and made his way towards his Occults Club classroom. It was nice to have somewhere to hang out after school that was away from everyone else. It was times like these that Arthur was grateful for his bad reputation—the Occults Club was the only club with a single member, and it meant that the classroom was all his. He didn't have to deal with anyone at all.

He pulled out his English homework and immediately became immersed in it. Arthur enjoyed the subject immensely and had vague plans to study it once he finished high school. What he'd do with a degree in literature, he hadn't decided but he'd enjoy it regardless.

"Arthur."

He didn't even flinch. "What do you want?" he sighed, "can't you see I'm busy right now?"

"But Arthur," the faerie continued, "don't you want to  _know_?"

"No," he muttered, "I don't want to know. Because you lot have already ruined everything. Alfred hates me."

"Who says I hate you?"

Arthur whirled around in his seat, wide-eyed. The faeries circled above his head, giggling. "We tried to tell you," they tittered. "We asked if you wanted to know, but you didn't! So you got a surprise."

"I hate surprises," he sighed. He finally summoned the courage to look at Alfred directly.

The American was frowning and chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"I already tried to tell you once before." Arthur tried to make his facial expression as blank and uncaring as possible. Inside, his heart was pounding. What was Alfred doing here? He  _knew_  that Arthur always came here after school! "You didn't believe me then, so I shan't waste my breath telling you again now."

Alfred had the decency to look away, ashamed. "Can we… you know, talk? About, you know?"

"No." Arthur turned away and picked up his pencil, even though he was screaming at himself internally. Why should he have to listen? Alfred hadn't cared when he'd tried to explain himself, after all. But he  _did_  miss having Alfred around, and he  _did_  wish that they could be on good terms again… "No," he repeated quietly. "I don't want to talk. If you wanted to listen to what I have to say, then you should have listened back then."

"Arthur…" the normally bubbly American sounded tired and apologetic. For a moment, Arthur wondered if he would simply walk out, but instead he pushed the door shut, locked it behind him and slowly made his way over to where Arthur was seated.

"I noticed… you haven't been eating lunch," Alfred mumbled, setting down a bag of McDonald's on the desk. "It's not good to skip eating. I know that you like the fish burger, so…" He wordlessly reached into the paper bag and pulled out some burgers and chips. Alfred carefully arranged the food on the desk between them, making sure to avoid getting oil on Arthur's textbooks. "Here."

Arthur wanted to reject the food. He wanted to tell the American to  _leave_  and never come back again, because if he could leave so easily once then what was stopping him from leaving again? "Why do you care that I'm skipping lunch?"

Alfred blinked. "Well… you're my boyfriend. Of course I care. I… r-really like you."

And just like that, Arthur's cheeked reddened and he ducked his head. "We're still… boyfriends?" he asked quietly, keeping his attention firmly on the desk top.

"Of course we are!" the American reached out and gently lifted Arthur's chin. "Just 'cause we fight, doesn't mean that we broke up or anything. Everyone fights, yanno. It keeps relationships healthy."

"But you still don't believe me." Arthur focussed on Alfred's nose instead of his eyes. It was a good nose. Straight and strong. It suited Alfred's eyes. It suited his whole face. Yes, he could continue looking at that nose for a while. He'd focus on anything if it meant not having to look Alfred in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said softly. Arthur's gaze was immediately drawn up to meet Alfred's eyes despite his best efforts. They were filled with remorse and earnestness. "I thought… I just thought you were, I dunno, making excuses or something. I didn't think you wanted to have an  _us_. You…  _do_  want an us, right?"

"Of course I do." His words came out as barely a whisper. Arthur brushed Alfred's hand off and fiddled with a chip. He squeezed it between his fingertips and watched distantly as the oil oozed out and began trickling down his thumb. "I wasn't making excuses. I wasn't lying."

"Y-you weren't?"

"I wasn't lying," Arthur repeated.

"So…" Alfred hesitated, and absently ate a chip. "You really see things, then? You… see spirits and stuff?"

Arthur nodded reluctantly. "I'm not crazy," he said, almost pleadingly. "Honestly, I'm not crazy."

They sat in silence for a long while. Arthur continued to gaze at his boyfriend pleadingly. He wasn't sure what he would do if Alfred doubted his mental state. He was fine—he just saw things, that was all. There was nothing wrong with him. He watched, pale and anxious, as Alfred wordlessly picked up his burger and began to eat. Arthur's stomach churned as he waited for some kind of acknowledgement, but there was nothing. Maybe Alfred just didn't want the food to go to waste. He'd probably leave as soon as he was done, and he'd never attempt to talk to Arthur again.

But then Alfred set his half-eaten burger aside and reached across the desk. He gently clasped Arthur's hand and looked up fiercely. "You're a lot of things," he said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. Even the faeries were quiet, watching from their perch on the stack of Arthur's textbooks. Alfred leaned in closer, eyes bright. "But I know you, Arthur, and you're definitely not crazy."


	10. Those Three Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Those Three Words  
> Prompt: Day 9 - 'I won't Say I'm in Love'  
> Summary: Alfred discovers why Arthur is hesitant to declare his love.

Alfred couldn't help feeling somewhat cheated. He and Arthur had been dating for a long while, but he had yet to hear those three words. By now, he was sure that he wanted to be with Arthur. Everything about the other boy was simply amazing, and Alfred had been quite liberal with his proclamations of love. They'd introduced each other to their respective families and were now very close to graduating high school—but not once had Arthur said that he loved Alfred.

He knew that he had to be understanding. Regardless of how long they had been dating, he had to be patient. Arthur wasn't used to saying stuff like that. It was still frustrating though, knowing that Arthur definitely felt  _something_  for him, but was unwilling to voice it out loud.

"Alfred, dear, would you like seconds?"

Alfred refocussed. He had been invited to dinner at Arthur's house, and was currently surrounded by a sea of Kirklands. "Er, yes please, Mrs Kirkland," he said awkwardly, unsure whether he was supposed to accept or not. He glanced to the side to gauge his boyfriend's reaction, but Arthur's face was unreadable.

"How many times have I told you to stop being so formal?" Her voice was chiding but her expression was pleasant as she dished up some more food for him. "You should call me 'mum'. Or at the very least, by name. But I prefer 'mum'."

"Thank you… mom." Alfred gingerly accepted his plate and began eating quickly to occupy his mouth and avoid saying any more embarrassing things. Beside him, Arthur's cheeks had become pink.

" _Mum_ ," Arthur all but whined, "don't make him say such strange things."

"How is it strange?" Mrs Kirkland began to clear some of the plates from the table. "He's your beau, isn't he?"

"Well yes, but I fail to see how that justifies you forcing him to call you 'mum'."

"Isn't he part of the family?"

Arthur fell silent then, chewing on his lower lip. His father seemed to sense the awkward atmosphere, so he and Arthur's brothers all quickly excused themselves from the table.

"Arthur," Alfred began, feeling a bit hurt at his boyfriend's lack of response. "If you don't like it then I won't say it. I know that I'm not  _really_  part of your family, but… I thought I'd say it to make your mom happy." He glanced at Arthur's mother. "Sorry, Mrs Kirkland, but Artie's not comfortable with it."

Mrs Kirkland was gazing at her son, a strange expression on her face. "I see."

"May I be excused?" Arthur asked weakly. He stood up without waiting for an answer and fled.

"You must excuse him," Mrs Kirkland said, beginning to clear the table properly. Alfred quickly stood to help her. "He cares for you; he's just… He's not very good at showing it."

Alfred simply shrugged. They worked in silence, and Alfred helped her wash the dishes instead of chasing after Arthur. The other boy had seemed kind of upset anyway, so he thought it would be best to not disturb him.

"To be honest," she began, looking a tad guilty, "I didn't approve of your relationship at first. It's wonderful that you've stayed with him for so long, though. I know that Arthur isn't exactly normal."

"I love him," he admitted quietly. Mrs Kirkland beamed.

"That's lovely, Alfred. But please—neither I nor Arthur, nor anyone in the family really, expect you to stick with him for longer than you're comfortable. You've done a lot for my son and I am truly grateful, but I know that he has… issues. It will be difficult to deal with that in the future, and I expect it will only get worse as he gets older. We're thinking about getting him some kind of treatment, but we're not entirely sure if it's appropriate at his age."

Alfred froze. The glass that he was drying dropped out of his faltering grip and clattered into the sink. No wonder Arthur was so desperate to show that he wasn't crazy. It all made sense now. After all, if his own  _mother_  didn't support and reassure him, then it was no wonder he was so insecure about his mental state.

"I don't think that you understand, Mrs Kirkland," he said firmly, carefully plucking the glass back out of the sink and checking it for cracks. "I  _love_  your son. I  _don't_  think that he's crazy. Arthur is  _perfect_ , and I  _love_  him."

"I'm happy that you feel that way," she said, "truly, I am. But just remember that you needn't force yourself, all right? You've already done so much for him. You've made him so happy, even if he doesn't show it. We'll always look after him, so you aren't obligated to stay."

"I'm not forcing myself." The words were beginning to become choked in his throat. His grip on the glass was quickly becoming too tight and he hurriedly put it away before he could break it. "And it's not  _obligation_. I love Arthur, and I'm  _not_  going to leave him if things get a little hard."

Was this why Arthur was so hesitant? It was obvious that Mrs Kirkland was just doing her best to look out for Arthur, but her efforts were infuriating. If his mother told him on a daily basis that the person he loved was going to leave him, Alfred would be hesitant to open up and declare his love, too.

"Please don't tell me, or him, that I'm going to leave him," he continued defiantly, his tone becoming a tad sharp. "Because it's not going to happen. I want to be with him."

"Mum, Alfred—" They both froze as Arthur stepped into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Alfred crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled Arthur close. He kissed him solidly, then pulled back and rested their foreheads together. "I love you," he declared. He watched Arthur's eyes widen. "I fucking  _love_  you, and I'm not going to leave you. I  _know_  that you're not crazy."

"A-Alfred…" Arthur tore his gaze away, his face flushed. "Not in front of mum…"

"Why not? She needs to know. I'm not giving you up without a fight, now or ever. I love you. I want to be with you."

Mrs Kirkland's usually open face was unreadable.

* * *

Graduation came quickly, and soon enough they were packing up to go to college. They continued to date steadily, but still Arthur refused to say anything along the lines of 'love'. It was beginning to become more than a little bit frustrating, but Alfred knew that he had to prove himself. He had to try and undo all of Arthur's family's words.

He had to prove that he wasn't going to leave any time soon.

Alfred found a small flat near the college that both he and Arthur had miraculously gotten into together, and made arrangements to see it. It was at a decent standard, had standard rent and was relatively close to campus, so he signed the contract without another thought.

"Arthur?" He was lying on his bed at home, with his boyfriend cuddled against his chest. Arthur mumbled something unintelligible, half-asleep. "Hey, Arthur. I gotta ask you something important."

"What do you want?" The Briton finally looked up, his oversized eyebrows furrowing over half-lidded eyes.

"Have you found somewhere to stay yet? Yanno, for college?"

"It's rather early to be deciding that, don't you think?" Arthur yawned and shifted on the bed. "But mum wants me to stay on campus. Something about being close to the health centre?"

Alfred felt irritation flare up at the mention of Mrs Kirkland. Since their discussion during that dinner, they hadn't been as close as they once were. She seemed convinced that Alfred was going to break Arthur's heart and leave him an utter mess. But then again, it was a mother's duty to worry about her children, so he supposed he should be more forgiving.

"Listen, I found this place… it's pretty nice, and close, too, but… it's kinda big for just me, and I'd miss you if you were living all the way over on campus, so… do you wanna, you know, um… stay with me?"

There was no missing the shock that sparked through those green eyes. Arthur had truly expected to be casted off now that they were out of high school. Alfred had no idea whether to feel angry or just plain sad.

"You… want me to stay with you?"

"Well, yeah." Alfred laughed weakly. "I do love you, you know. I want to be with you as much as possible. It'd be hard if we weren't living together 'cause we're taking all different classes and stuff, and… I don't think I'd be very happy without you around."

Arthur slowly wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and buried his face against his shirt. "I… want to. I want to stay with you. I…" he trailed off, but then forced himself to continue in a whisper. His hot breath ghosted over Alfred's skin. "I love you."


	11. Make You Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Make You Better  
> Prompt: Day 4 - 'A Whole New World'  
> Summary: Arthur's mother attempts to make her son normal.
> 
> I do have to warn that this chapter contains descriptions of effects of medical drugs, and sedation. I am absolutely not telling any of you to stop taking your medication as soon as you feel like it. If you are being prescribed something for a diagnosed condition, it's best to keep taking it (because a lot of medications cause withdrawal and/or rebound effects and shouldn't be stopped abruptly) unless you're experiencing severe warning symptoms that warrant an immediate trip to the doctor/hospital.

They were supposed to have a happy ending. They were supposed to go from high school sweethearts to lifetime lovers. They were supposed to find a flat and move in together, spending each and every day in each other's company. Alfred had accepted him and understood him. They were supposed to be happy. But it didn't happen.

The spirits and faeries continued to plague him, keeping him up at night and leading him off between classes. Arthur had no real control over them—except when he was with Alfred.

"Listen, darling," his mother had said finally, her face haggard and pale. "These will help you, honestly. You don't have to see those things. You don't have to be different anymore."

Arthur had reluctantly accepted the thought of taking medication. He'd hurt his mother so much in the past that he couldn't refuse her. And besides, he wasn't crazy. The pills wouldn't affect him at all, because his mind wasn't the problem.

… was it?

Alfred thankfully remained relatively quiet on the issue of the medication. When Arthur had asked him about it, the American had merely said, "take 'em if it makes you feel better. But  _I_ don't think you need fixing."

He hadn't known how to react to that.

His mother organised a doctor's appointment, and soon enough he had a shiny new bottle of rattling pills.

* * *

Alfred's lab class had run overtime. He returned to their shared flat hurriedly, carrying a bag of Chinese takeaway. Arthur had been acting strangely for a while, and Alfred was becoming worried.

"Arthur!" he called out as he came through the doorway. "Are you back?"

Lately Arthur always seemed to leave after Alfred did, and returned earlier. Most of the time, Alfred came home to find his boyfriend in his pyjamas, looking ruffled and sleepy. It was very strange indeed. Arthur hadn't even yelled at him in weeks. They usually had minor arguments at least a few times a week, but recently Arthur hadn't been up to arguing much at all.

"Arthur, babe, where are you?" His use of the hated pet name was bound to make Arthur respond, right? Alfred set his bag and the food down on the couch and wandered over to stick his head into the bedroom.

Arthur was curled up on top of the bed, wearing the same pyjamas that he'd been wearing that morning. He didn't stir at all, so Alfred quickly made his way over and knelt down beside the bed.

"Artie?" He shook his boyfriend's shoulder gently. "C'mon, are you really still sleeping? Didn't you go to class today?"

He leaned in to peer at the Briton, and was shocked to find the dulled green eyes half-lidded. Alfred waved his fingers slowly in front of Arthur's face, hoping for a reaction. When that didn't do anything, he began to panic.

"Fuck, oh  _fuck_ , I'm going to call an ambulance, just  _please_  be okay—" Alfred fumbled for his phone and had just begun to dial the emergency number when Arthur spoke.

"… Don't need to." His voice was flat and slightly slurred, as if it costed too much energy to try and form the words in his usual crisp accent.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Alfred quickly hung up and rushed back to the bed. He reached out to stroke Arthur's cheek, his movements gentle despite his harsh tone of voice. "Why didn't you say anything when I was trying to talk to you, you ass!"

Arthur shrugged and rolled over to face away from the American. He curled up more tightly and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Don't turn away from me!" Alfred grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him back over. "Arthur, sweetheart, you gotta talk to me here. What's going on?"

Arthur opened his eyes, tearing up. It was the first sign of emotion that he'd shown since Alfred had come home. "They're gone," he whispered, tears overflowing and beginning to trickle down, soaking into the sheets. "I can't see them anymore. They're all gone."

* * *

At the age of twenty-one, Arthur Kirkland found that he could no longer See.

* * *

As the days went on, Arthur continued to withdraw into himself. While the spirits and faeries had not always been kind, they had always been a part of him and now they were suddenly  _gone_. He couldn't see or hear them anymore. In fact, he could barely see or hear  _Alfred_ anymore. The world passed by in a dysphoric haze. Days began to blur together, until he could barely tell when it was day or night. He couldn't think. They were  _gone_  and maybe he  _had_ been crazy after all. He couldn't stop taking the medication, just in case everyone had been right and it  _was_  all in his head. He could do it.

He could finally make his family less ashamed of him.

But it was scary. The world was hazy and he couldn't  _feel_. He couldn't attend his classes and he couldn't do any cooking. He couldn't do  _anything_. He was still as useless as ever. Arthur Kirkland was never going to be someone worth anything.

Still, he could take his pills. That was one thing he  _could_  do. And he could ignore how Alfred whispered to him and looked at him in fright. He wasn't  _completely_  useless yet, though he was close. He was so close, so he had to continue taking them, for his sake, for his mother's sake, he didn't even know anymore…

* * *

One morning, Arthur woke to find his bottle of pills gone.

* * *

"Where did you put them?" he demanded croakily as soon as Alfred walked through the door that evening. He was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning casually against the solid wood in an attempt to hide his dizziness.

"I'm not letting you take that shit anymore." Alfred bent over to slip his shoes off then strode into the flat. "I got rid of them."

"You can't do that!" Arthur forced himself to his feet and wobbled towards his boyfriend furiously. It was the first real emotion that he'd felt in a while, and it scared him. What if the faeries and spirits came back? What if he became crazy again?

"Yeah?" Alfred caught him and helped him over to the couch. "Well I did. I'm serious, Arthur. I love you, and I don't want to see you doing this to yourself."

"They made me normal!" The world appeared to be spinning, so Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred's shoulder exhaustedly and closed his eyes tightly. "They made me… not crazy. Mum'll be happy. I don't see them anymore. I'm  _normal_."

Alfred gripped the other man's shoulders tightly. "There was nothing wrong with you at all! And yeah, I let you do what your mom said 'cause she's your mom and all, but I've seen what it does to you and I'm not letting you take those pills anymore!"

"I just want to be normal," Arthur whispered plaintively.

Alfred leaned down and kissed him almost painfully hard. "You  _are_  normal—you don't need drugs!" His voice was fierce and choked with emotion. "You're normal and wonderful and  _perfect_ , and I  _love_   _you_. So what if you can see stuff the rest of us can't? That's called a  _gift_. You're supposed to take care of those and use 'em for good and stuff, not drug yourself up until you can barely move!" He shook Arthur by the shoulders then, his grip painfully tight. "Look at yourself," he pleaded. "This isn't you. You used to wake super early and always go to class on time. You used to top each and every one of your subjects. You used to spend time with me. You used to do  _so much_  but now… you won't even get out of bed and you're going to fail your classes if you don't start  _caring again_!"

Arthur stared up, horrified, as tears began to trail down the American's face. "Alfred…"

The man in question let out a tiny, choked-off sob. "That's the first time you've said my name in forever," he said. "This is the first time we've  _talked_  in forever."

It was true. Arthur had no idea how much time had passed since he'd begun taking the medication, but it had been long enough that he'd begun to miss  _Alfred_  more than he missed his invisible companions.

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur whispered. "I can't see them anymore. They're gone. How do you know that I'm not crazy? How do you know that they ever existed at all?"

"You're  _not_  crazy," Alfred said firmly. "I've known you for ages. You've  _never_  been crazy. I've always told you that. Stop taking the pills, please.  _Please_ , Arthur. I love you. Don't take these anymore. Don't hurt yourself anymore.  _Please_."

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Arthur was shocked to find that he'd almost forgotten how very blue Alfred's eyes were. He'd almost forgotten Alfred.

"I've been awful to you, haven't I?" he asked quietly.

"This isn't about me. This is about you, and your health. You're not crazy. I wish you could see that."

"I—I'm sorry," he murmured uselessly. "But mum—"

"I'll talk to your mom," Alfred promised. "I'll make her see that you don't need to be fixed. Because you're perfect. You've  _always_  been perfect."


	12. Marigolds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Marigolds  
> Prompt: Day 10 - 'I 2 I'  
> Summary: Alfred goes all out in an attempt to prove something to Arthur.

Arthur's recovery had been disappointingly slow. It was as if he lacked any determination to return to his usual routine. Sure, he went to his classes and cleaned up around the flat, but it was obvious that he was still bothered by something.

It had been a long and arduous process, but eventually Alfred felt that he had convinced Arthur's mother of his intentions. He wasn't going to leave Arthur. And Arthur definitely didn't need to be on those medications. If anything, those drugs were wrecking Arthur's life.

Arthur had begun to See again, though. And as clarity returned to him, so did his fear of being crazy. The fact that Arthur didn't seem in the least bit inclined to believe Alfred was very frustrating, and Alfred hated feeling helpless like that. There was nothing that he could do to prove that Arthur wasn't insane, and the Briton wasn't going to simply take his word for it.

There had to be  _something_  he could do. He just hadn't thought of it yet.

* * *

Alfred cautiously poked his head into the dark, musty shop. He hated skipping lectures, but knew that it was necessary. He didn't want Arthur to find out just yet. The bell dangling from the top of the door gave a sudden tinkle as he pushed it open a little bit wider.

"Hello?"

His voice came out sounding nervous and strained. As he glanced around, Alfred could see strange things in jars on the shelves, along with what looked suspiciously like real bones. One of his friends had recommended this shop when he'd been asking around about mystical, occult stuff. He knew next to nothing about the topic, and the internet wasn't very helpful—the information was all conflicting or just sounded completely ridiculous. Apparently the lady who owned the store would be able to help him, though.

"Yes?"

Alfred flinched and spun around, only to find an old, wizened woman standing behind him. Her back was hunched and her face bore the lines from many years of life, but her eyes were still clear and held a spark of mischievousness.

"Um, I have a question—or a few…" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and looked away. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Go ahead, dearie." The woman began to rearrange the orbs on a nearby shelf as Alfred tried to summon his courage.

"I-is it possible to see… faeries and ghosts and stuff?"

There was a long silence. Alfred was almost afraid that the woman would refuse to answer, but eventually she turned to him, her face grave.

"We can see anything, if only we look hard enough. Human beings tend to ignore things that we deem unimportant."

"But… is there a way to see them?"

The woman frowned, cupping an orb between her hands and peering down at it. "It is dangerous to meddle with these things," she warned. "The spirits and Fair Folk do not appreciate being gawked at."

"It's not just out of curiosity," he insisted. "It's… really important to me. I have to show him that he's not crazy. I  _have_  to, or else he's just going to keep hating himself and then his mom'll make him go on those pills again but there's nothing wrong with him!" His voice rose as he tried to express how urgent his question was. This wasn't a case of simple amusement-seeking. This was for Arthur.

"I see." She placed the orb back down on the shelf, a small smile gracing her lips. "Marigolds."

"Marigolds?"

"Pick them at midnight, and brew them in a tea. Before you go to bed, dab the tea onto your eyelids. The amount of time that you'll be able to See varies from person to person… but be careful. When you become more aware of spiritual beings, so too will they become more aware of you."

Her words sent a chill down Alfred's spine, but he knew that for Arthur, he'd brave anything.

* * *

He'd decided to try it as soon as possible. Alfred purchased a potted marigold plant on the way home, hoping that it would be enough. He arrived home with barely ten minutes to water and hide the plant before Arthur arrived home.

The Briton was still thinner than was healthy, and though he had regained a bit of his colour he still seemed rather pale. As he stumbled in and toed his shoes off at the door, Alfred caught sight of the exhausted expression on the other man's face.

"Welcome home, babe," he greeted quietly, reaching out to take Arthur's book bag. "Long day?"

Arthur looked up at him, his eyes as green and beautiful as ever, but still duller than they once had been. It made Alfred's heart ache, and he once again swore to himself to restore that spark to them soon.

"Do you want dinner?" Alfred tried, when he realised that he wouldn't be getting a response from his boyfriend. "I haven't cooked anything, but we can if you want—or we can order takeaway. Do you want Chinese tonight? Or Indian?"

It took him a moment before he noticed that Arthur wasn't even looking at him. His gaze was somewhere over Alfred's shoulder instead.

"Artie? Sweetheart, look at me." He gripped Arthur's chin gently and tilted his face up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Arthur said finally, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, Alfred. I suppose I'm rather tired…"

Alfred wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Do you wanna just eat and then go to bed? You don't have to do any study tonight. You're already on top of things."

"That sounds very tempting." He gave a soft smile. "You'll be joining me, I expect?"

"Of course." Alfred leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Now go shower or something, yeah?"

Arthur nodded wearily and wandered into the bedroom. Alfred ordered some Chinese takeaway and by the time Arthur was back, dressed in his fuzzy, pastel-coloured, unicorn-patterned pyjamas, Alfred had dished everything up ready for them to eat. Dinner was a quiet affair, but every now and then Arthur would smile gratefully or give Alfred's hand a light squeeze.

Soon enough, they had cleaned up and were ready for bed. Alfred slipped into bed behind Arthur and spooned him, relishing the closeness of the Briton's body. "I love you," he murmured quietly.

"I do love you, too," Arthur whispered back.

He would do what he had to, to keep Arthur happy.

* * *

At midnight, Alfred crept out of bed and picked the flowers. He boiled the petals for a while, hoping that it would work.

All he could do was try, though, so he dabbed the mixture onto his eyelids and went back to bed.

* * *

When Alfred woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw was a tall, fuzzy figure leaning over the bed.

"Holy crap!" He flailed a bit, trying to untangle himself from the covers and only succeeding in making himself even more trapped. Beside him, Arthur began to stir.

"Wha'zza matter?" the Briton mumbled, rolling over to face him and peering up blearily.

"A-Artie… Look!" Horrified, Alfred pointed at the figure. He could  _see_  the figure's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything that it was saying. Arthur evidently could, though, because he glanced up at the figure and then at the tiny, glowing things that were circling above them.

"Oh." Arthur cocked his head to the side curiously, still looking intently at the  _things_. "I see. This is what you meant."

"They're there. They're really there. Holy fucking shit, Arthur!" He couldn't seem to lower his hand, and continued pointing. "What's it doing here? What does it want?"

Arthur frowned disapprovingly and tugged his boyfriend's hand down. "It's rude to point. But… did you really… can you really see them?"

"Yeah." Alfred let out a girly shriek and clung to the other man as another figure popped out from a wall. "Oh my fucking God, what are they doing they're  _everywhere_  and  _shit_  do they watch us shower and have sex and stuff—"

"They most certainly do not!" Arthur huffed. "They are perfectly decent! But…" he looked away then, playing with the buttons on his pyjamas. "They said you did something… to make yourself See. Marigolds, they said. I… why?"

"I love you," Alfred declared, proud that he only let out one  _tiny_  squeak. "I love you and if I can see them too then you're obviously not crazy. You just don't need the flowers too see stuff. You're perfectly normal though, mentally. Your mom doesn't know what she's talking about."

He sat there, still clinging to Arthur, as the Briton stared at him with wide eyes. He was also uncomfortably aware of the faeries and spirits gazing at him openly, their mouths moving up and down without any sound coming out.

"You are so silly," Arthur said finally, twisting around to bury his face against Alfred's neck. "You're such a sweet, silly,  _wonderful_  boy, and I do love you so."

"I love you, too," the American replied automatically. He closed his eyes and curled up around Arthur. "But I think I'm going to have a heart attack if I keep seeing those guys pop out of places. I love you heaps, babe, but I'm  _never_  doing this again unless I for some reason  _want_ to piss myself and die."

Arthur simply laughed for the first time in a long while. It was light and carefree, and it was the most beautiful sound that Alfred had ever heard.


	13. Think of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Think of Me  
> Day 12 - 'I'll Make a Man Out of You''  
> Summary: Alfred is too paranoid to have sex. Arthur is horny and insecure.
> 
> Please note this chapter contains explicit sex, with Alfred topping and Arthur bottoming.

Ever since Alfred’s foray into the spiritual side of the world, he’d become increasingly paranoid. He refused to go to the toilet in the middle of the night, and had to be convinced that no one and nothing was watching him before agreeing to shower. He clung to Arthur whenever possible, and worst of all…

He simply refused to have sex. 

For Arthur, who was used to being showered with physical affection at least a couple of times a week, going for a substantial amount of time without any sex from Alfred was both worrying and frustrating. He’d tried hinting, he’d tried seducing—hell, he’d even tried bluntly propositioning Alfred but nothing had worked. Arthur was seriously beginning to worry that Alfred would never touch him in that way again.

Though he knew the reason why Alfred was so hesitant to make a move on him, Arthur couldn’t help but worry that there were other reasons, too. 

“I just don’t want them watching us,” Alfred had tried to explain one night. “It’s really creepy, knowing that they’re standing there watching us even though I can’t see them.” Arthur had believed the explanation, but when Alfred’s excuses began to change, he began to wonder. 

“Sorry, babe. I’m really tired tonight.”

“I’ve got heaps of work to do. Maybe another time, sweetheart.”

He knew that it was a bad idea to assume the worst. Alfred had been nothing but kind and loving towards him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to trust in the man fully. No matter what Alfred said, he knew that the American could do much better than being with Arthur. The worry began to fester into guilt, which in turn began to pile up in his stomach, making it hard to eat or sleep or do anything much at all. 

The situation also seemed to be having a detrimental effect on Alfred. He was grumpier than usual, sometimes snapping at Arthur in the morning before he’d had his coffee. The sexual frustration that he was experiencing was obvious enough, yet he still refused sex. 

Arthur didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared of what could happen if they didn’t fix things. He didn’t want to lose Alfred. There had to be something that he could do to seduce Alfred. 

He picked up some roses on the way home one afternoon, knowing that Alfred had a lab class and wouldn’t be home until later. He set them up strategically in the bedroom, doing his best to make the atmosphere seem as romantic as possible. Although he wanted to cook a nice dinner, Arthur knew that he would probably burn the whole building down, and besides, if everything went to plan then they wouldn’t have time to eat, anyway. 

“I need you ladies to clear out for the night, please,” he announced, looking up at the faeries perched along the top of the bookshelves. They giggled knowingly and flew down to settle on his shoulders. The sole ghost in the flat peered at him mournfully, and he sighed. “I promise I’ll deliver your message tomorrow. But until then, please—find somewhere else to wait.”

Even though he’d asked as nicely as possible, Arthur knew that there was no real way to ensure that the spirits stayed away, short of setting up salt barriers and drawing symbols on the doors and windows—something that would very much piss them off, which he most definitely did not want. Besides, if Alfred came home to that sort of thing, he would definitely doubt Arthur’s sanity then. 

* * *

 

As soon as Alfred walked through the door, he was accosted by a very adorable-looking Arthur. The American’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his boyfriend, wearing little but his boxers and Alfred’s old letterman jersey from high school. Arthur had the strangest ideas about what constituted seduction, but Alfred normally didn’t complain. He did now though, because the sight of Arthur in his clothes sent heat spiking straight down to his cock. 

“Arthur.” He kicked his shoes off and carelessly dumped his bag on the floor just inside the doorway. “… What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re going to have sex,” Arthur announced. Despite his confident tone of voice, Alfred could see the insecurity in those familiar green eyes and internally berated himself for causing Arthur to doubt himself once more. 

“What? Babe, you know that I don’t want… you know. Them watching us and stuff. It’s weird and creepy as hell.”

“We’re going to have sex,” Arthur repeated, raising his voice. “And we’re going to have it now.”

“No, we’re not.” Alfred shook his head and steeled himself before pushing past Arthur and entering the main living area of the flat. “I’m tired.”

There was a short silence, before Arthur followed. “What’s the real reason?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore? Don’t give me that ‘I don’t want the ghosts to see us’ bullshit! It’s not as if they’d want to watch, anyway! They don’t want to be reminded about things that they can’t do anymore! What’s the real reason? Are you bored of me? Have you fucked me enough that you’ve had your fill, and you’re ready to move onto the next person? Why won’t you fuck me?” Arthur’s voice had gradually risen until he was shouting, his voice sounding even louder in the silence of the room. 

“Arthur…” Alfred stood up suddenly, making his way across the room towards his distraught boyfriend. He froze as he saw Arthur flinch as if expecting a blow. “Artie, sweetheart, what… what the hell are you going on about? I’m not bored of you—don’t ever think that! I could never be bored of you! I love you! I’m just…” He slowly, carefully took a few more steps forward and enveloped Arthur in his arms. “I’m scared of them. I’m really scared, because they’re there and I can’t do anything about them, I can’t protect you from them… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”

“Then why won’t you show it…?” Arthur buried his face against his boyfriend’s chest. “We used to do it all the time but now you never even touch me that way and… I don’t want you to be bored of me. If you want we can try new things, whatever you want.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?” Alfred stroked the Englishman’s hair soothingly. “I love you, and sex with you is amazing enough already. We don’t need to do new things—unless you want to, of course. I just… I feel weird, knowing that they’re around. I’ve seen them, so I know they’re real and I know they’re there.”

“They never stay when we’re having sex.” He pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Back then, before you saw them… you must have known that they were real. You said that you didn’t think I was crazy, after all. But now that you’ve seen them, it’s like you’re always concentrating on them.” He glanced up at Alfred. “I want you to concentrate on me. When we’re having sex, you should only be thinking of me, just as I always think only of you.”

Alfred looked guilty. “You’re sure that they don’t stay to watch?”

“They don’t care much for pornographic entertainment, I’m afraid.” Arthur’s joke was weak at best, and the way that he looked at Alfred was both wary and tired. “I specifically asked them to leave the flat for tonight, though.”

“And they’re gone?”

Arthur glanced around the room to confirm it, and nodded. “They’re gone. I promise.”

The American bit his lip briefly, before scooping Arthur up in his arms. He ignored the indignant squawk and lunged into the bedroom, barely avoiding smacking Arthur’s head against the doorframe. “I’ll make the most of the time that they’re gone, then,” he said, “to show you how much I adore you.”

“Aren’t you worried that they might still be hanging around?” Arthur asked as he was gently placed on the bed. He watched eagerly as Alfred began to strip.

“Nah. I trust you.”

* * *

 

Alfred’s foreplay was uncharacteristically long and drawn-out. He kissed and caressed his boyfriend’s pale skin, eliciting soft moans of pleasure that aroused him to no end. Arthur was much more pliant and docile than usual, but Alfred tried to not let it bother him. He just had to reassure Arthur, and then the Briton would definitely return to normal. 

Neither of them enjoyed giving blowjobs, but Alfred did his best to ignore the taste as he pressed ascending kisses to the side of Arthur’s erection and slowly licked the tip. He loved the way that Arthur’s body writhed on the bed, that narrow chest rising and falling as the Englishman panted softly. 

“Feeling good, babe?” he asked quietly, wondering how on earth he’d managed to deny himself for so long. Everything about Arthur was intoxicating. Fuck the spirits. Arthur was his, and nothing was going to stop him from showering the other man with all of the love, affection and attention that he deserved. 

“I w-want—” Arthur broke off and let out a soft cry as Alfred swallowed as much of his cock as he could. The American was clearly inexperienced, but his gentleness and attention more than made up for it. Arthur threw his head back against the pillow and moaned shamelessly as his boyfriend suckled and bobbed to the best of his ability—which actually wasn’t that much, but it felt good at any rate. 

Alfred slowly eased the cock out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips until he pulled away. “What do you want?” he asked, crawling up hovering over Arthur’s body on all fours. It seemed too gross to kiss Arthur after having the man’s cock in his mouth, but he wanted to kiss him—so he did. “Do you want to top tonight?” he asked, nibbling on Arthur’s ear. “Is that what you want?”

“N-no,” came the stuttered answer. “I want… I want you to feel good, too. I want you… Inside.” The fact that Arthur could even answer coherently was impressive, and Alfred vowed to redouble his efforts until Arthur couldn’t even think about anything other than Alfred’s love for him. 

“How do you want it, then?” he asked, reaching across to the bedside table to search for the bottle of lubricant. “From behind? Face-to-face? Riding?” 

Arthur smacked him half-heartedly. “I’ve made you into a pervert,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound as if he was lamenting the fact. “I want to see you,” he said.

“Missionary it is, then!” 

By then, Alfred’s cock was standing up proudly but he did his best to ignore his erection as he set about preparing his boyfriend. He slicked his fingers with lube and gently eased one in, pausing to gauge Arthur’s reaction. 

“Fucking hurry up already!”

Alfred grinned as he complied, gradually adding another finger and slowly stretching the puckered ring of muscle. There was the Arthur that he knew and loved: the Arthur who was demanding and loud during sex, not the quiet, skittish thing from before—though he loved Arthur no matter how he acted. 

Soon enough Arthur was thrusting his hips back against the fingers impatiently, his legs tucked over Alfred’s shoulders. “Put it in. Fuck me!”

“I’m not going to fuck you.” Alfred leaned down and kissed him hungrily, successfully muffling the other man’s confused protests. “I’m going to make love to you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Arthur grumbled, his cheeks flushing bright red. “H-hurry up and make love to me, then!”

Alfred rushed to tear a condom open and haphazardly rolled it onto his erection, slicking it with lube before pressing the tip of his cock to Arthur’s stretched hole. “I love you,” he whispered, capturing Arthur’s lips in another long, languid kiss as he pushed his way inside in one long thrust.

He could feel the way that the Briton’s entire body tensed underneath him, almost convulsing as Arthur scrabbled to get closer, to get away—

“Relax,” Alfred cooed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Relax for me. Breathe. You’re making me feel so good—if you calm down, breathe, I can make you feel good, too.”

Arthur nodded frantically, small, agonised gasps coming from his lips. He dug his fingers into Alfred’s back as he did his best to calm himself down. Gradually, he adjusted to the intrusion, his body relaxing on the bed. “You can move,” he breathed shakily. 

Alfred obeyed, pulling out slightly before easing back in. With each successive thrust, he pulled out a little bit further until only the tip of his cock remained inside. He set a steady pace then, caressing any part of Arthur’s skin that he could reach and whispering sweet, comforting words. 

Arthur’s eyes were screwed shut and he let out loud, wanton moans as Alfred’s cock successfully brushed against his prostate. 

“Arthur,” Alfred groaned, beginning to pick up speed. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

Those brilliant emerald eyes opened then, gazing up into endless blue. Their gazes remained locked even as Alfred’s thrusts became haphazard and he orgasmed hard, shuddering as he came. He pulled out and barely managed to avoid collapsing on top of his boyfriend, rolling to the side instead. 

“A-Alfred,” the Briton whimpered, eyes still dilated with lust and need. “Alfred, please—”

The American reached out and gripped the other man’s cock, pumping it once, twice, and then Arthur was arching, coming with a loud, breathless cry. They lay together, breathing heavily but sated and content. 

“I love you,” Arthur whispered, eyelids drooping. 

They were still a mess, but Alfred couldn’t bring himself to do much more than disposing of the condom and wiping Arthur’s thighs with a tissue. They could clean up in the morning, he decided as he eased the covers over both of them. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “And you were right. I couldn’t think of anything but you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the ride. This was very fun to write and I do have plans to revisit this 'verse in the future!


	14. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Promises  
> Prompt: Day 13 - 'Once Upon a Dream'  
> Summary: Alfred is late to their anniversary dinner for... reasons.

In all truth, Arthur hadn't expected much from life.

It was different now, of course. The permeating self-hatred that he'd experienced as a boy was all but gone. He had a sweet, kind boyfriend who loved him despite everything. He had a nice flat and he'd learnt to cope with his Sight. His brothers were attempting to mend their relationships with him, and his parents called every weekend. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

It scared him to no end.

He was an independent sort of person, and he most definitely didn't want to become clingy or too dependent on Alfred. But it was a fact that Arthur continued to fear the worst. What if everything that had happened was a delusion of his own mind? What if it just didn't last? Nothing lasted forever.

He wanted to trust Alfred though. Alfred  _had_  promised forever.

Arthur stirred at the pot of pasta absently. He'd specifically asked the spirits to leave him alone for the next few hours, so that he didn't become distracted and burn the food as usual. Everyone assumed that he just didn't know how to cook, but that wasn't the case at all. Arthur could cook perfectly well; it just so happened that whenever he attempted to cook, the spirits and faeries would surround him and babble in their many voices, causing him to overcook food or mix in the wrong ingredients.

He was determined to get it right tonight, though. It was their anniversary, and Arthur wanted to be the one to make an effort, for a change. Alfred always went overboard with his many gifts and showers of affection. Arthur had bought just one gift, which was safely hidden where his boyfriend surely wouldn't find it.

The pasta seemed tender enough, so he carefully poured it into a colander to drain. He gave the sauce a quick stir and went to check on the salmon steaks in the oven. Everything was going perfectly. The asparagus looked almost done, too, so he began to get out some dishes and cutlery and quickly laid them out on the table.

There were only ten minutes left before Alfred was due home, so Arthur hurriedly collected the gift and slipped it into his pocket before dishing up the food and placing the plates into the oven to keep them hot. He sat down and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Alfred still wasn't home.

It didn't bother Arthur—after all, the American was late a lot of the time. What  _did_  bother him, though, was the fact that Alfred wasn't picking up his calls or answering his text messages. What if something had happened? What if there'd been an accident, or if the silly man had been mugged?

He sat there, wringing his hands nervously as he repeatedly attempted to reach Alfred's phone.

* * *

Alfred arrived home a solid hour late. At least he had the decency to look remorseful, Arthur supposed, and the kiss and roses only served to mollify him further.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said, wrapping his arms around Arthur and refusing to let go. "Traffic was real bad." He finally pulled back a bit and leaned down, his breath ghosting past Arthur's cheek. "Happy anniversary, Arthur."

"Happy anniversary, idiot," Arthur mumbled, pretending to still be upset. He crossed his arms and turned away, but his tiny smile made his relief and happiness obvious. "Sit down. I made dinner."

"You made dinner?" He winced theatrically and Arthur smacked him soundly. "Kidding, kidding—what's for dinner then, huh? Smells good this time, sweetheart."

"Come and help me bring it out to the table."

Soon they were both seated at the table with steaming plates in front of them and a glass of champagne each. Alfred looked suitably impressed by the meal.

" _You_  actually made this?"

"Shut up! You know that I can cook perfectly well!"

Eventually they settled down, eating slowly and reminiscing about their days together. They were only twenty-two, but it seemed as if they had been through a lot together. They'd been dating since high school, after all.

"It's really good," Alfred complimented as he continued eating. "How come you never cooked like this before?"

Arthur shrugged, mumbling an excuse under his breath. When they had finished eating and were up to their second glass of champagne, the two of them simply sat there holding hands across the table. It felt like a dream, but the warmth of Alfred's hand made it hard to believe that it wasn't real.

"Hey, Arthur…" Alfred looked away, his cheeks turning rather pink. It wasn't like him to be so bashful, so Arthur leaned forward and smiled coaxingly.

"Yes, love?"

"We've been together for a long time now, right?" The American shifted nervously in his seat. "Are you… happy? With me?"

"Of course I am." Arthur frowned, suddenly beginning to worry. "Why do you ask? What's going on?"

"We've been through a lot together. I believe in you. I love you." He suddenly stood and rounded the table, standing right in front of Arthur. "I love you," he repeated quietly, voice shaking.

"What's the matter?" Arthur's voice was rising in fear. "I love you, too—you know that, don't you? Even if I don't always say it, I do, honestly…"

"Yeah." Alfred summoned a weak smile and dropped down onto one knee. "Arthur… I know that we can't get married or anything. But I don't need the government or church to tell me that I'm yours, or that you're mine. I… bought something for you. That's why I'm late."

From his back pocket he produced a simple gold band, nestled in its velvet box.

"Will you, uh… wear this for me? Even if it's not official… I—"

He broke off as Arthur scowled and shoved him lightly.

"O-oh," he said, crestfallen. "I guess it was a stupid thing to do, right? I mean…"

The Briton pushed his chair away and produced a similar-looking box from his own pocket, blushing and scowling all the while. "It's not stupid," he mumbled, kneeling down in front of his boyfriend. "I just… I wanted to be the one to… give you one first. I know that we can't get married. But…"

They gazed at each other for a long moment, before Alfred suddenly burst into loud chuckles. He clutched at his middle and laughed as Arthur scowled at him. Eventually, though, Arthur also joined in and they sat on the floor, reduced to helpless giggles.

"We're two of a kind," Alfred said finally as they wheezed for breath. "C'mon, I'll put yours on you, then you can put that one on me. Let's do vows!" He lifted Arthur's left hand gently and kissed it, grinning. "I, Alfred Jones, take you, Arthur Kirkland, to be my uh, boyfriend forever. To love and to hold and to spoil rotten, and, um, to, er—help me out here, sweetheart!"

Arthur merely shook his head and laughed. "You did fine."

Beaming, Alfred eased the ring out of the box and slipped it onto his boyfriend's ring finger. It fit perfectly, gleaming softly in the dimmed light. "Okay, your turn."

"Must I?" At the American's insistent nod, Arthur rolled his eyes and took Alfred's left hand. "I, Arthur Kirkland, take you, Alfred Jones, to be my… um, boyfriend? But that's ridiculous, we're already boyfriends!"

" _Eternal_  boyfriends then. C'mon, keep going!"

"… to be my  _eternal boyfriend_ , to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward 'til death do us part."

He deposited a quick kiss onto Alfred's hand and slid the ring onto the American's ring finger.

"Oh my God, Artie," Alfred said, obviously trying to keep himself from laughing. "I knew those romance novels would come in handy one day!"

"Shut up!" Arthur huffed and began to pull away, but Alfred gripped him gently by the upper arms and tugged him closer.

"Can I kiss the bride now?" the American asked quietly.

"You'd have to kiss yourself then," Arthur scoffed, "because I'm definitely not the bride. Also, it's ' _may_  I kiss the bride'."

They both leaned in though, eager to seal this new promise with a kiss.

Even though Arthur had been terrified at the prospect of baring his heart and possibly being rejected, he knew that Alfred, too, had been frightened when offering the ring.

They'd come a long way since they'd first noticed each other, all those years ago. Against all odds, they'd fought to be happy and together, and had won. No matter what happened, they knew that the other would stand by their side through anything.

 

 _Spirits_ , End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the ride. This was very fun to write and I do have plans to revisit this 'verse in the future!


End file.
